


A Christmas Pride and Prejudice

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Parties, Christmas fic, Country houses, F/M, Jane Austen - Freeform, Kabby, Miss Griffin, Mr Kane, ballgowns, balls, pride and prejudice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:26:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: Christmas in 19th Century Hertfordshire. The Griffin family receive an invitation to stay at Weatherton, the country seat of a rich young man, Mr Jacapo Sinclair. Mrs Griffin is on the lookout for husbands for her two eldest daughters, Miss Caroline (Callie) Griffin and Miss Abigail (Abby) Griffin. Mr Sinclair is a pleasant enough man, but the same cannot be said for his proud and disagreeable friend, Mr Marcus Kane.Set in the Pride and Prejudice universe, this story mixes original scenes with scenes from the story.





	1. Chapter 1

The letter arrived on the morning of the fifth day of December. The paper was of the richest cream, edged with gold, and stamped with the crest of the Sinclair family. It was, of course, addressed to Mr Griffin, and he intended to open it after he had finished his egg and buttered toast, but his wife had other ideas.

“My dear Mr Griffin,” she cried. “You vex me so. How can you sit there eating your breakfast as though nothing is happening in the world?”

“I am perfectly aware of what is happening in the world, my dear Mrs Griffin,” replied her husband. “If you were to read a newspaper occasionally you would know too.”

His wife issued a cry that sounded like that of a strangled cat. “The letter, Mr Griffin! The letter!”

Mr Griffin shook his newspaper, folded it carefully in half, and pretended to peruse an article in the lower section of the paper, as though it were of the utmost interest and importance.

At the opposite end of the table, his wife was working herself up into a state of apoplexy. Her hands were clutching the tablecloth, her bosom was heaving, her voice had become so shrill the glasses in the cabinet were quivering with anticipation.

“Mr Griffin! What a state of affairs it is when a husband ignores his wife as you do! What about your daughters? Have you no care for them?”

“I have every care for them, and for you,” returned Mr Griffin. His calm replies were vexing his wife even more, and he brought the newspaper up to his face to conceal his smile.

“Indeed, you do not! For if you did, you would open the letter at once. The happiness of your daughters may be at stake!”

“I dare say the happiness of our daughters is not dependent on whether I open this letter before or after I eat my boiled egg. Whereas my own happiness most certainly is dependent upon satisfactory completion of my breakfast, in my own time.”

“Callie, Abby, pray implore your father, for he will not listen to his own dear wife.” Mrs Griffin put her hand to her forehead in a dramatic fashion designed to convey her complete and utter distress, as if everyone around the table were not already aware of her emotional state.

“Perhaps, father, it would be kinder to put mamma, and indeed the rest of us, out of her misery.” Abigail Griffin, the second eldest of the five Griffin daughters, spoke softly, her voice tinged with amusement. Caroline, the eldest Griffin girl, and known to the family as Callie, smiled in agreement.

Mr Griffin never could resist the desires of his favourite daughter. She rarely asked for anything, unlike the youngest three, who were silly girls with an inflated sense of their own importance. He looked at his wife, at her red face and bulging eyes. Where did they get that from? Thank heavens for Callie and Abby, for without them he had no doubt he would have been devoured long ago by the women in his family, like a lamb at the mercy of a pack of hungry wolves.

He sighed dramatically, although it was purely for effect. He was as interested as the rest of the family to behold the contents of the letter.

“Very well, very well. Pass me my letter opener, Abby.” He cut the seal and unfolded the letter slowly, making the most of the moment.

“Hurry up, dear, for heaven’s sake.”

Mr Griffin did not respond to his wife. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began to read the letter aloud to his family.

_Dear Mr Griffin_

_It would be my great honour if you and your family would agree to join me and a select number of guests at Weatherton for the Christmas holiday. Guests are to arrive no earlier than the fifteenth of December and depart on the twenty-sixth. Please reply by return so that appropriate arrangements can be made._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Jacapo Sinclair, Esq._

The squeals emanating from the lower half of the table, where Mrs Griffin and their three youngest daughters were seated, were so loud Mr Griffin was forced to put his fingers in his ears.

“My dears!” Shouted Mrs Griffin, the loudest of them all. “Oh, my world, what a treat! I believe Mr Sinclair has above £4,000 a year. We shall have Callie married off before the fortnight is out, and perhaps even Abby too. He is bound to have many eligible friends.”

“And me, mamma, and me!” Harper Griffin flung her arms around her father. “Thank you, papa!”

“Well now, there’s no need for that. I did nothing more than open the letter. And you are too young to be thinking about marriage.”

“I am sixteen in two months’ time!”

“That old! I shall draft my reply at once, for there has been far too much wailing and screaming for one morning already.” Mr Griffin stood up, tucked his newspaper under his arm, and left the room.

“Your father is a wonderful man, girls,” exclaimed Mrs Griffin when he had gone. “We are so lucky to have him.”

“That’s not what you were saying a moment ago, mamma,” said Abby.

“Oh, shush. You know perfectly well he adores us and we him. A select number of guests. Oh, what a delight! It is a fine thing that we are amongst this number, a fine thing indeed. Now.” She clapped her hands together. “There is a lot to do. You will all need new dresses. There are bound to be many balls and you can’t wear the same thing each night.”

“We should go into Polis, mamma, to see what is new,” said Clarke, who was the second youngest, and only marginally less silly than Harper.

“The dresses we have are perfectly adequate,” said Octavia. “Do we _have_ to go to Weatherton for Christmas?”

“Your sisters are in need of husbands, Octavia, and lord knows there are no decent men in Polis. This is the perfect opportunity for them to make a good match. You will be a good girl and do as you are told.”

“Yes mamma.”

Harper and Clarke left the room arm in arm, chattering excitedly about the preparations to come. Octavia trailed gloomily behind them.

“Well, girls,” said Mrs Griffin. “What do you think to that?”

“I hope we will have a wonderful time, mamma,” replied Callie.

“Of course you will! Mr Sinclair will fall in love with you the moment he sets his eyes on you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, mamma.”

“Nonsense! Why wouldn’t he? And Abby, my dear. If you can try to be less disagreeable, I’m sure there will be someone there for you as well.”

Abigail smiled. She was well used to her mother’s less than subtle admonishments of her character. Callie was the favourite child of Mrs Griffin, just as Abigail was the favourite of Mr Griffin. It was ever thus.

“I shall be as I always am, mamma. Any man must take me as he finds me.”

“Well then, we had better make sure he finds you looking as presentable as possible. Go and prepare yourselves, girls, for we shall leave for Polis presently.”

Abigail sat at her dressing table, examining her features whilst her sister brushed her hair. She wasn’t beautiful like Callie, who had hair so dark it was almost black, olive skin, and deep brown eyes. Abigail had chestnut brown hair and the same brown eyes as her sister. Her skin was paler than Callie’s and she thought herself unremarkable.

“You’re beautiful,” said Caroline.

“Oh, I will never be as beautiful as you, but I do not mind about such things. I wonder who will be at the gathering?”

“I heard Mr Sinclair has two sisters. The eldest is married but the younger one lives with him. She is about your age, Abby.”

“I should be happy to make another friend. Perhaps Hannah Green will attend, and the Millers?”

“Dear Hannah. It has been an age since last we saw her.”

“It has. Oh, my dear Callie. Mamma is going to be impossible over the next ten days.”

“Indeed, it will be a trying time for us, and for poor father.”

Abigail laughed. “Yes. I expect he and I will be taking many long walks in the countryside between now and then.”

“Don’t leave me alone with mamma, dear Abby.”

Abigail kissed her sister on the cheek. “I would never do that to you, my dear.”

\---

The time between receiving the letter and the day they were to attend Weatherton passed as Abigail had predicted. She endured three trips to Polis for dress fittings and the purchase of so many adornments they would need an extra carriage just for their luggage. Mrs Griffin was like a clockwork toy that is wound a little tighter every day. Her voice became higher, her nerves more stretched with every hour that passed. Abigail was quite prepared for something to spring loose at any moment, for tension such as that could not be contained for long. Father had taken to locking himself in his study and ignoring all pleas for him to examine the newest dress or discuss what was the latest fashion regarding the height of necklines and hemlines. Abigail had walked for miles through the country lanes surrounding their home. Caroline had remained demure and serene throughout, like a swan gliding over a lake. Nothing ever perturbed her. The younger girls had finally lost their voices on day seven as a result of their constant chatter, and had been mercifully silent ever since in order to recover in time.

Now they were all squashed together in their carriage, and the noise of their chatter was rising along with the excitement as Weatherton came into view. Everybody in Polis knew that Mr Sinclair had inherited nearly a hundred thousand pounds from his father and had bought the estate, and some property in London. The house was large, of course, about five times the size of their own property, and set in a hundred acres of parkland. The butler showed them to their rooms where they were to prepare for the ball that evening. Abigail chose her favourite of her new dresses; a cream silk with a low neckline that emphasised her elegant neck and firm bosom. A simple cross made of garnets lay at her throat. Her long hair was curled and upswept, and she wove white silk flowers and a string of pearls through it. She donned a pair of long, silk gloves and then examined herself in the mirror. “You’ll do,” she said, and laughed.

The ballroom was large, with dark green walls, hung with paintings and candelabras. Hundreds of beeswax candles lit the room, giving it a warm glow, making the cavernous space seem intimate, seductive.

“I have never seen a more well-appointed room,” declared Mrs Griffin. “Mr Sinclair clearly has wonderful taste.”

“I doubt this is any of his doing, mamma,” replied Abigail. “He only moved in a couple of months ago.”

“Nonsense. He will have directed its décor to his taste I am certain.”

“I’m sure you are right, my dear, as always.” Mr Griffin took his wife’s arm and led the family further into the room. They were at once spotted by Mr Green, a long-time friend of the Griffin family whose daughter, Hannah, was a good friend of Caroline and Abigail.

“The Griffins are here. Ah, how wonderful. My dear, my dear, the Griffins have arrived.” He turned to his wife, a small woman of indeterminate age beset by a stoop and a permanent frown. She was the opposite of jolly Mr Green in every way.

Mr Griffin and Mr Green shook hands. Whilst her parents and the Greens talked, and the younger Griffin girls ran to their friends, Abigail surveyed the room. The Millers were here with their son Nathan, and the Murphys with John. Mr Jackson, the village doctor, was deep in conversation with Miss Martin. There were perhaps a dozen families present and a few eminent individuals, totalling around a hundred people, but as yet there was no sign of the host. A trio of musicians comprising a flautist, a violinist and a pianist were playing a minuet, but no one was dancing. There was a tension in the air, despite the friendly chatter, for everyone was awaiting the arrival of their generous host.

Abigail knew the moment the Sinclairs entered the room, despite not looking in the direction of the door, because the music suddenly became louder as the room fell silent. She moved to stand next to Caroline and Hannah Green, and together they watched the proceedings. There were five people in the party.

“That is Mr Sinclair,” said Hannah, indicating a handsome young man of around two and twenty. He had dark, curly hair and a warm smile. He was followed by a young, blonde woman. She held her nose high in the air, as though a bad smell floated permanently beneath it.

“The blonde lady is one of his sisters, I am not certain which.”

“I do not feel she is happy with what she sees,” whispered Abigail to Caroline.

“Perhaps we are too provincial for her,” replied her sister with a smile.

Behind the blonde sister was another dark-haired woman and a man. He was considerably older than her and both wore smiles that were no doubt meant to convey warmth, but they must have found the effort difficult for their mouths were turned down at the edges.

At the rear of the group, standing close to the wall, was a tall, handsome man with dark hair and deep brown eyes. He held himself stiffly, arms behind his back, head high. He stared straight ahead, a pained expression on his face.

“Who is that, Hannah?” asked Abigail.

“I do not know, I do not believe Mr Sinclair has a brother.”

“He does not look happy to be here either.”

“Perhaps he is unwell,” said Caroline.

“You always think the best of people, my dear sister. It is your greatest virtue. I, on the other hand, do not. I suspect he would rather be anywhere else in the world than in Weatherton at this precise moment, and that is why he looks so pained.”

“Oh, Abby!”

Abigail linked her arm through her sister’s. “Let us go find mamma and papa, for the sooner we are introduced to Mr Sinclair, the sooner he will fall madly in love with you.”

“I do not think that will happen, dear Abby.”

“Why should it not? You are by the far the most beautiful girl in the room. He cannot fail to see that.”

The sisters found their parents just as the Sinclair family were being introduced to them.

Mr Griffin smiled as they approached. “Ah, my dears, where have you been? May I present Mr Sinclair. This is my eldest daughter, Miss Caroline Griffin, and my second eldest, Abigail.”

Abigail and Caroline curtsied and Mr Sinclair bowed. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance. These are my sisters, Miss Diana Sinclair and Mrs Jordan, and Mr Jordan.”

The girls curtsied again. The sisters nodded in return.

“And the gentleman?” Abigail looked at the dark-haired man who was standing a short distance away from the rest of the group. He closed his eyes for longer than was necessary, before opening them and looking at Abigail. His look was so full of disdain Abigail had to swallow a smile.

“This is my good friend, Mr Marcus Kane.”

“I’m honoured to meet you, Mr Kane,” said Abigail, as she curtsied. He looked at her for moment, gave a curt nod, then turned and walked across the room.

“Well!” exclaimed Mrs Griffin.

“Now, now, dear. Let us go and find Mr Green.” Mr Griffin led his wife away before she could say anything that would embarrass the family in front of Mr Sinclair.

“Perhaps you would care to dance with me, Miss Griffin?” Mr Sinclair took Caroline’s arm and led her to the dancefloor. Abigail retreated to the edge of the room and watched as her sister and Mr Sinclair danced. He seemed like a pleasant young man, with easy manners, unlike his friend, who was quite the rudest person Abigail had ever met. Mr Kane was standing alone at the other end of the room, not looking at anyone, or engaging with his fellow man. People approached him, and then veered away as though they had encountered an immovable object hitherto invisible.

Abigail danced twice with Nathan Miller, and once with Mr Sinclair, and was sitting and fanning herself to cool down when she saw Mr Kane approach Mr Sinclair. She was close enough to hear their conversation.

“When will this interminable ball end, Sinclair?”

“The time would go a lot quicker if you danced, Kane. I would much prefer to see you dancing than standing alone in the corner of the room.”

“I most certainly would not prefer to dance. You know how I hate it. It is only tolerable if I am acquainted with my partner and there is no one I know in this room other than your sisters, who are both engaged.”

“If you spoke to people occasionally, you might be better acquainted with many of them. I swear I have never met such agreeable and handsome women as are present tonight.”

“ _You_ are dancing with the only attractive girl in the room,” said Mr Kane, looking at the eldest Miss Griffin.

“She is quite the loveliest creature, isn’t she? Her sister is sitting just behind you. Why don’t we go and speak to her? I’m sure she is just as agreeable as her sister.”

Mr Kane turned to look at Abigail, and caught her eye, before withdrawing his gaze and turning back to Mr Sinclair.

“She is tolerable, I suppose, and would suit the taste of some, but she is not enough to tempt _me_. If she is so agreeable why is she sitting alone when there are more men than women at this ball? She should be in demand, but she is not. Perhaps you should return to your more agreeable partner, for I am not interested in any other.”

Mr Sinclair went back to dancing with Caroline, and Mr Kane left the room. Abigail’s already dire impression of Kane had not improved by her overhearing that conversation. He had caught her eye, knew she could hear him, and had continued to denigrate her regardless. She was not a vain girl, and as we have already seen, she thought herself unremarkable, so his words did not hurt her as much as amuse her, and she spent a good deal of the rest of the evening telling her friends in spirited detail every word of the conversation.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly for all the Griffin family. Mr Sinclair danced with Caroline more times than any of the other girls in the room. Despite being merely tolerable in the eyes of Mr Kane, Abigail kept a full dance card, and she was exhausted by the time the family finally made their way up to their suite of rooms in the early hours of the morning.

Mrs Griffin was in high spirits, thrilled at the attention paid to her eldest daughter by their host, and full of news she had heard about a certain Mr Kane.

“He has a full twenty thousand, you know. He is the richest man we have ever had the privilege to meet in Hertfordshire. He has an estate in Derbyshire that is worth ten Weathertons. What do you think to that, girls?”

“If only he was rich in manners he would be quite the catch indeed,” replied Abigail.

“You have not heard, mamma,” said Caroline, “that our dear Abby is only tolerable in his eyes, and not worth a moment of his time?”

“Indeed I have not! Our Abigail not handsome enough to dance with? Not worthy of his time! Well! What a high and mighty, conceited man he is! He is not worthy of you, my dear, a most horrid, disagreeable man. Mr Griffin, I do wish you had been there to put him down.”

“I wish that too my dear, although I’m quite sure Abigail was capable of handling him herself if she so desired.”

“Indeed father,” replied Abigail. “I did not wish to waste my breath on him. A ruder, more contemptuous man I have never met. I shall enjoy spending the rest of my time here finding ways to either avoid him, or annoy him.”

“That’s my girl,” said Mr Griffin, and he gave Abigail a hug.

Later, as Abigail was getting ready for bed, Caroline entered her room. The girls sat together on the bed and talked about the events of that evening.

“Oh, Abby, I do think Mr Sinclair is the most divine man. So polite, and attentive. I was quite surprised he asked to dance with me so many times.”

Abigail smiled at her sister. “I am not at all surprised. There was no one else prettier or lovelier than you. I agree he is a fine man, and I give you both my whole-hearted blessing.”

“It was just one night, Abby.”

“Perhaps, but I saw the way he was looking at you, as though you were the sun and all the planets.”

“I am sorry that his friend was so rude to you, Abby. You are worth any man’s time.”

“Oh, I know that, have no fear. I shall only ever marry someone who loves me for who I am, and who I can love deeply and with all my heart. I shall probably be an old maid until I die.”

She laughed, but Caroline did not.

“Don’t say that, dearest sister. You will find someone, I know you will.”

“At least I am spared the attentions of Mr Kane for the rest of the holiday. And I don’t mind being an old maid. I shall be a wicked aunt to the dozens of children you will have with Mr Sinclair, and spoil them all rotten.”

“My dear Abby. Good night dearest sister.” Caroline gave Abigail a kiss and then left the room.

Abigail got into bed, and thought about Mr Kane. Such a cold, arrogant man, proud and aloof. She was not going to let a man like that spoil her time at Weatherton. Mr Marcus Kane didn’t know it, but he had met his match in Miss Abigail Griffin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the ball, and Abigail bumps into Mr Kane again. Will he be any less disagreeable?

The following day dawned bright and crisp and Abigail went for a walk in the shrubbery after breakfast. A light frost covered the ground. There was little in the way of colour other than the green of the shrubs, it being December, except for a winter rose, whose white petals were tinged with pink, like a fresh face on a cold day. Abigail bent to run her fingers over its leathery dark green leaves. She heard the crunch of footsteps and stood up as Mr and Miss Sinclair came around the corner, closely followed by a sullen-looking Mr Kane. Abigail straightened, and smiled at the visitors.

“Mr Sinclair, Miss Sinclair, Mr Kane. Good morning.”

Mr Sinclair came forward and grasped both of Abigail’s hands in his own.

“Miss Griffin. How uncommonly lovely it is to see you this fine morning. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

“It is, quite beautiful,” replied Abigail. “I do believe winter is my favourite time of year.”

“Oh,” said Miss Sinclair, who was clad head to toe in fur, her blonde curls peeking out from beneath a fur-lined bonnet, her delicate hands clad in brown fur mittens, and her small feet snug inside furry boots. Abigail pitied the poor creature that had sacrificed itself for her comfort. “But it is so terribly cold at this time of year.”

“It is, but you seem well-guarded against the conditions.”

Mr Kane coughed, and as Abigail looked up he was putting his hand to his mouth. In the brief glimpse she got before he covered it, she could have sworn he was hiding a smirk.

“What do you think, Mr Kane?” said Abigail. “Is this your favourite time of year? I expect the cold suits you most well,”

Mr Kane coughed again. “Indeed, Miss Griffin. There is nothing better than a long walk on a cold day to sharpen the mind and the wits.”

“Are you quite well, Mr Kane? You seem to have a something of a cough.”

“I am in good health, Miss Griffin, thank you.”

“Perhaps you need more fresh air, to sharpen your health, as well as your mind?”

Mr Kane didn’t answer her, merely nodded. “Shall we continue our walk, Sinclair?”

“Yes, let’s do that, brother. I am getting cold standing around.”

Mr Sinclair nodded. “Very well. Would you care to join us, Miss Griffin?”

Both Mr Kane and Miss Sinclair frowned at this suggestion, as though spending more than a moment in Abigail’s company was quite enough for one day.

“I’m sure Miss Griffin has other…” began Mr Kane.

“I should be delighted,” said Abigail.

Mr Sinclair took her side and they walked through the shrubbery towards the box maze. Mr Kane and Miss Sinclair walked ahead, Miss Sinclair linking her arm through Mr Kane’s. Abigail thought he would shrug it off for he seemed the kind of man who would not welcome such close attention, but he did not. At times, Mr Kane would bend his head closer to that of Miss Sinclair, as she whispered something in his ear and he smiled. Perhaps they were closer than Abigail had thought, not that she knew very much about either of them. She would ask Hannah when she next saw her; she always seemed to have the latest news.

“How is your sister, Miss Caroline, this morning?” Mr Sinclair had his hands clasped behind his back as they strolled through the knee-high maze.

“She was in good spirts at the breakfast table, Sir.”

“Ah, wonderful! I had a most enjoyable time at the ball last night. She was an excellent dance partner.”

“She is the most exquisite dancer, quite the best out of all us Griffin girls.”

“Oh, I think you are just as good, Miss Griffin. Don’t you think, Kane?”

Mr Kane turned to look at them. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, wasn’t Miss Abigail Griffin just as wonderful a dancer as her sister last night at the ball?”

Mr Kane sniffed. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I dare say if Mr Kane were ever to accompany me he would find me a most disagreeable partner.”

Mr Kane frowned again, his dark eyes narrowing as he surveyed Abigail. He looked at Mr Sinclair, then back at Abigail, and then turned back to Miss Sinclair without another word.

“I really don’t see why Miss Griffin is walking with us,” Miss Sinclair said to Mr Kane, sniffily. “My brother seems enchanted with her sister, goodness knows why. The family is of very low standing.”

“The sister is very attractive,” replied Mr Kane.

“But not Abigail. She is quite plain.”

“I thought so too last night, but on reflection she has a pretty face and a pair of very fine eyes. She is pleasing to look upon.”

Miss Sinclair examined Kane’s face with keen eyes, looking to see if she had misunderstood which lady it was who possessed such fine eyes.

“Miss Abigail Griffin?”

“Yes, Miss Abigail Griffin.”

“I am astonished. What on earth happened overnight for her to change from merely tolerable to possessing fine eyes? Should I wish you both future happiness?”

Kane shook his head. “You ladies are all the same. Can a man not give a lady a compliment without it leading immediately to love and marriage?”

“When that man is you, no. I have rarely heard you give a compliment other than out of forced politeness. In fact, I have never heard you compliment a lady at all, and not one you have just met. I consider the marriage a matter of fact. Oh, just think of the joy your mother-in-law will bring!” She clapped her hands together with glee and Mr Kane walked by her side, listening to her chatter, perfectly indifferent to it all.

\---

That night the Griffins attended the home of Mr and Mrs Green, which was situated just a few short miles from Weatherton. Abigail was glad to get out of the house for the evening. She had no wish to see Mr Kane or Miss Sinclair again so soon. An entire morning of their haughty indifference was more than enough for one day. She was keen, however to quiz dear Hannah about the man, and see if he was betrothed to Miss Sinclair. Abigail though the two of them would make the perfect couple.

“My dear Griffin family,” cried Mr Green. “Welcome, welcome to my home.”

“It is so kind of you to invite us, isn’t it Mr Griffin?” Mrs Griffin was clothed in her most voluminous dress. It had so many hoops and petticoats she had to be helped to stand up and sit down again. Mr Green took her arm and led her into the house, and Caroline arranged her in the largest armchair Mr Green possessed. From there, Mrs Griffin could watch over all proceedings, and she was much content.

Abigail sat with Caroline and Hannah while Octavia played the clavier, and Clarke and Harper giggled with Hannah’s younger sister, Charlotte.

“Did you enjoy the ball last night?” asked Hannah.

“I did, very much,” replied Caroline.

“You certainly caught the attention of Mr Sinclair, Callie. I swear he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Oh, I think you exaggerate, Hannah.”

“Nonsense. I’m not exaggerating one little bit, am I, Abby?”

“Indeed not. Mr Sinclair thought you were quite the most perfect woman there. He as good as told me so today,” replied Abigail.

“When did he say that, dear Abby?”

“I met him when I was walking in the shrubbery this morning, and he talked of nothing but you.”

“You did not say.”

“I did not get the chance when I returned. You were so busy with mamma.”

“You did not meet him alone, though Abby?”

“Of course not. Miss Sinclair and Mr Kane were with him.”

“Mr Kane.” Caroline nearly spat his name. “That frightful man.”

“What has happened, Callie? What has Mr Kane done?” Hannah asked.

“He slighted our dear Abby, vile man. Refused to dance with her, said he found her merely tolerable.”

“Oh, Abby!”

“Oh, it was nothing. Really.”

“From what I heard from Mrs Murphy, he never talks to anyone outside of his intimate circle. _They_ think he is very agreeable, but he is most disagreeable to the rest of society.” As Abigail had suspected, Hannah seemed to be a source of information on Mr Kane, but she did not get a chance to ask her more questions, for Callie intervened, still vexed at the man’s behaviour.

“I should imagine it would be more disagreeable to be liked by him,” said Caroline, warming to her theme. “He is a most proud man, who looks down on those he sees as lesser than himself, which is nearly everybody.”

“He does have a lot to be proud of, Callie. He is a man with a great estate and good standing in the community. It is right he should think highly of himself,” replied Hannah.

“Perhaps, but does he have to be so condescending with it? It is most ill-mannered.”

“He seemed particularly close to Miss Sinclair when we were out walking yesterday. Is there about to be an announcement, do you think, Hannah?” Abigail leaned forward, keen to hear her friend’s opinion on the subject.

“Oh, I don’t believe so. She is more a friend of his sister, Miss Raven Kane, than him. It is rumoured that he is in want of a wife, and there are no suitable candidates in Derbyshire where he keeps his home.”

“So, he is in Hampshire to look for a wife!” Caroline was astonished. “Then why is he so rude to everyone?”

“Perhaps he found that the only agreeable lady was already taken by his good friend, Mr Sinclair. The rest of us clearly fall far short of Mr Kane’s standards, and his pride will not allow him to sink so low.” All the girls laughed at Abigail’s words, and were still laughing when the door to the parlour opened, and the rest of the room fell silent.

Into the room came the man himself, followed by a family friend of the Griffins, Reverend Jaha. Reverend Jaha was grinning from ear to ear, in sharp contrast to Mr Kane, who moved over to the fireplace and stood silently, as though the effort to move his lips to form words, or even a smile, was too great a one to make.

“Everyone,” said Jaha, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes screwed up with delight. “Look who I found as I was walking up to the house! Mr Marcus Kane, of Polisville.”

Mr Kane bowed, but still did not speak. Reverend Jaha continued. “He was passing, and I waylaid him and convinced him to come inside and meet my dear friends the Griffins.”

“We’ve met,” said Mrs Griffin, in a tone that conveyed her displeasure at that circumstance.

“Oh.” Reverend Jaha’s smile faltered, but only briefly. “Then there is no need for formal introductions.”

“Indeed not!” harrumphed Mrs Griffin, and if she could have flounced away she no doubt would have. Unfortunately, she was rather wedged into her chair, and the best she could do was turn her head away flamboyantly, nose in the air. Mr Kane either did not notice, or chose to ignore her.

Abigail felt obliged to ease the tension, and rose to cross to Mr Kane and speak with him. She was accosted as she approached him by Reverend Jaha.

“My dear Abigail. How lovely you look this evening. Doesn’t she look a picture, Mr Kane?”

“Her overall composition is pleasing to the eye, yes.”

Abigail arched an eyebrow. “Thank you for your appraisal, but I am not a painting, Mr Kane.”

“If you were, you would be by the grandest of masters, my dear.” Reverend Jaha bobbed his head and smiled in that obsequious manner he had that had always vexed Abigail. The man was like a waiter in a high-class restaurant, forever bobbing his head in deference.

“You are too kind, Reverend Jaha.”

“Not at all, not at all. Why I was visiting Lady Maya de Vie just yesterday when I saw a painting that reminded me of you. It was Anna Margareta von Haugwitz by Anselm van Hulle.” He stood straight, his head flung to one side in a strange flourish, as though he was expecting Abigail to examine his words and pronounce on their magnificence. Her silence perturbed him for a moment. “You are familiar with the painting?”

“I am, yes. I was fortunate enough to see the original in the National Gallery on my visit to the Capital last winter. It is a very beautiful painting. I cannot see the likeness to me, though, I am afraid.”

Mr Kane cleared his throat. “There is a certain… her nose…the eyes, perhaps.” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Abigail’s features.

“I must bow to your superior knowledge of this painting, and your better judgement. Even the most vain amongst us cannot judge their own appearance impartially. I find my looks to be merely tolerable. Don’t you agree, Mr Kane?”

“I. Well.”

“Do not fear. I have put you on the spot, and that is rude of me. Your opinion is of no consequence to me as I am certain mine is of none to you. I have no great desire to be anything other than what I am. We are as we are born, and must make the best way through life that we can with the talents God gave us.”

“Oh, wonderfully put, dear Abigail. Such a turn of phrase you have. Delightful. Why, I was just saying to Lady Maya de Vie the other day, my dear friend Abigail Griffin is quite the wittiest of ladies.”

It was Mr Kane’s turn to arch an eyebrow. Whether it was in surprise at Abigail being labelled witty, or at the ingratiating comments of Reverend Jaha, Abigail could not tell.

“I did not know you were close friends with Lady de Vie, Reverend Jaha. I don’t believe she has mentioned you in her conversations with me.” Mr Kane placed one arm on the fireplace, leaning back slightly as he spoke.

“She has not? Oh, well Lady de Vie is a woman of utmost discretion, not one to gossip around the town. She is far too well bred for that.”

“Indeed. It is a pity I am sure that there are not more people like her.”

Abigail hid a smile at that comment. Mr Kane spoke with a straight face, not a hint of his true feelings showing on his face.

“I quite agree, Mr Kane. Far too many people like nothing more than to hear the sound of their own voice. As Lady de Vie said to me…”

“You will excuse me?” Mr Kane bowed his head to Reverend Jaha, and walked away without giving the man a chance to reply, leaving Abigail stranded with Reverend Jaha.

“Such a marvellous man,” said Jaha. “Very well connected you know.”

“I did not know. What is his connection with Lady de Vie?”

“He is her nephew, dearest Abigail.” He looked around and then sidled closer to Abigail, whispering into her ear. “There were rumours that she intended for him to marry her daughter, but he has refused!”

“He has refused? Do you know why?”

“No one knows why, but Lady de Vie was most upset by it. There are some that say he is not the marrying kind.”

Abigail nodded but didn’t reply. She was not going to be dragged into gossiping with Reverend Jaha about Mr Kane. “I must go and speak with mamma. If you will excuse me.”

Of course. Oh, my dear, a moment. Your good family is staying at Weatherton I believe, at the invitation of Mr Sinclair?”

“That is correct.”

“Oh, then I shall see you tomorrow night, for I have been invited to attend the ball in the evening. Perhaps I can prevail upon you for a dance or two, dear Abigail?” He put his arm on hers tentatively, and Abigail patted it before gently removing it.

“I would be honoured, Reverend Jaha.”

“Very well. Until tomorrow!” He took her hand and kissed it, then bowed as he walked towards the door. Abigail looked around for her sisters, and saw Mr Kane watching her from across the room. They locked eyes for a moment, before Abigail turned away. She was angry with him for abandoning her to Reverend Jaha. The man had no gallantry whatsoever. He was quite the rudest, proudest, most disagreeable man Abigail had ever met.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another ball, another Kane encounter. Poor communication and misunderstandings make for an uncomfortable evening for some.

“Reverend Jaha will be here tonight, Abby. Did you know?” Mrs Griffin was sewing sequins onto Clarke’s dress. The whole family was together in the drawing room at Weatherton, having recently enjoyed a lunch so sumptuous Abigail was considering whether she would need to let her dress out before the ball. She would go to her room later and try it on while there was still time to alter it.

“Yes, mamma, he told me so when I spoke with him yesterday.”

“Such a fine gentleman, don’t you think. He speaks very highly of you, dear.”

“I’m surprised he has time to speak of anyone other than Lady Maya de Vie,” said Callie.

Abigail laughed but Mrs Griffin did not find it so amusing.

“Callie! He has every right to be proud of his connections with Lady de Vie. He would be a catch for any young lady. He has more than your father’s measly £2,000 per year, I happen to know for a fact.”

Mr Griffin lifted his newspaper up to hide himself from his good wife, and looked at Abigail, rolling his eyes as he did so. Abigail laughed again.

“I am sure there are plenty of ladies in want of a husband who would find Reverend Jaha a most suitable companion.”

“I think there is one lady in particular he is interested in. You would do well to pay him some attention this evening.” Mrs Griffin looked pointedly at Abigail.

“I shall pay him the attention he deserves, mamma, of course.”

Callie sniggered into her handkerchief, and Abigail batted her sister gently on the arm. From across the room, the sound of the clavier was accompanied by a mournful wailing as Abigail’s younger sister, Octavia, sang a piece that was more like a dirge than the upbeat waltz it was supposed to be.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Octavia, enough with your caterwauling! My poor head cannot take it. I am of a most delicate constitution this afternoon,” shouted Mrs Griffin in a voice that sounded perfectly hale and hearty to Abigail.

“Perhaps you ought to go and lie down, mamma. Callie and I can finish Clarke’s dress.”

Mrs Griffin put the back of her hand to her forehead, as though to test the temperature of her fevered brow. “Perhaps you are right, Abby. My dear Mr Griffin, will you help me to my room?”

Mr Griffin put his newspaper down and sighed. “I am sure you are capable of making your own way, my dear. It is only at the top of the stairs.”

Mrs Griffin glared at her husband, and he gave in to the inevitable, tucking his newspaper under one arm, and standing to give his wife the other arm to take.

“We shall see you girls this evening,” he said, as he led his wife from the room.

“I have a feeling tonight is going to be quite an ordeal,” said Abigail to Caroline.

“Why, dear sister?”

“There is the gloomy presence of Mr Kane to look forward to, and the overenthusiastic Reverend Jaha. Not to mention mamma, and the girls.” She looked over to where Clarke and Harper were chasing two boys around the billiard table, and sighed.

Caroline put her hand on Abigail’s arm. “You are more than a match for Mr Kane and Reverend Jaha, Abby. And I will be here, to provide moral support.”

“Bless you, dear Callie, but I want you to spend all your time making Mr Sinclair fall more in love with you. I dare say I shall survive the evening one way or another.”

\---

At the dance that evening Mr Kane was standing with Miss Sinclair when the Griffin family entered the room.

“Oh, there’s your future mother-in-law,” quipped Miss Sinclair as Mrs Griffin flounced past them without so much as a glance at Mr Kane. “But I don’t see the owner of the fine pair of eyes. Oh, wait. There she is.”

Miss Abigail Griffin entered a moment after the rest of her family. She was accompanied by Reverend Jaha, and the two seemed very close. Mr Kane took the opportunity to survey Miss Griffin. She was wearing a cream dress that was edged in gold and had gold thread woven through it. The way the candlelight reflected off it gave him the sense that she was shimmering. It was quite dazzling. Her dark hair was pinned up and secured with a headband made of lace and dotted with pearls and white silk roses. A simple ruby cross lay at her throat. It was her eyes, though, that attracted his attention the most. They really were fine, a deep rich brown, with a sparkle in them, as though she was permanently amused at something. He had never seen anyone quite like her. She was both unassuming and extraordinary at the same time. It was quite a disturbance that she was in his thoughts as much as she was. He stepped forward to speak to her, but Reverend Jaha put his hand on her arm and steered her towards the dancefloor. Kane stood back and watched, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, for which he had no simple explanation.

Abigail could find no polite way of ridding herself of Reverend Jaha. He had sidled up to her as she reached the bottom of the stairs and had not left her side since. When he asked for the first dance there was no way she could refuse him, and so here they were, preparing to dance a Scotch Reel. Reverend Jaha bowed, and smiled, and Abigail curtsied. As they met in the middle of the group, he took her in his cold, damp grasp, and clasped her hands to his breast, before mercifully releasing her to the next man in line. When they came back together, he had a smile as broad as that of a cat that is about to pounce on the mouse.

“I knew you would be a wonderful dancer, my dear. Such style! Such grace!”

“You are too kind. My dancing skills are passable at best.”

“Nonsense. You are exquisite.”

Abigail cringed at his obvious toadying. As she passed him to dance back to back, she saw Mr Kane at the edge of the room, standing stiffly with his arms behind his back. He was watching them. Abigail turned and went back to her place. She looked over again, and he was still watching them. He looked handsome in his blue coat and tails, grey waistcoat and white cravat. Such a pity that his temper did not match his appearance, otherwise he would be quite the catch for any young woman.

Abigail decided it would be better to engage with Reverend Jaha otherwise it was going to be a long evening.

“Do you get many opportunities to dance, Reverend Jaha?”

The Reverend cupped his ear. “Excuse me? The music, it is so loud.”

Abigail was forced to lean in closer to him at their next pass so that he could hear her. “I said do you get many opportunities to dance?” Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Mr Kane stiffen even more, if such a thing were possible. What a strange man he was.

“Oh, yes, I have been to many a ball at the behest of Lady de Vie. Such a wonderful social circle I am involved in. I must say, dear Abigail, that any wife of mine would not want for quality invitations. My stipend is more than adequate to pay for all the dresses a lady could desire.”

“Then I am sure there are many ladies who would be delighted to live such a life.”

The Reverend grasped her hands again as they met for the final time of this dance. “Oh, I’m so glad you think so. In fact, I have been meaning to ask you…”

He was interrupted by the music ending, and Reverend Jaha bowed. He moved forward to take Abigail’s hand in preparation for the next dance, when Mr Kane appeared, his voice quiet but firm as he spoke.

“Are you taken for the next dance, Miss Griffin?”

Abigail was astonished to see him in front of her, when he had expressed his disinterest in both her and dancing just two nights ago.

“I.”

“Miss Griffin has a full dance card, I think you will find.” Reverend Jaha tried to push in between Mr Kane and Abigail, but Mr Kane stood firm.

“Is that true, Miss Griffin?”

“Well, not officially, Mr Kane. I was only promised the one dance by Reverend Jaha.”

“And that dance has now ended. Then may I claim the next one?”

Abigail could not think of a suitable excuse, so she had no choice but to accept. “You may.”

This time the dance was a cotillion, and they lined up with Caroline and Sinclair, and two other couples in a square. Mr Kane held himself as stiffly as ever, his head high, chin firm and thrust forward. The touch of his hand when he held hers was fleeting, but warm, unlike that of slimy Reverend Jaha. He kept his eyes on her as they danced their part, like a predator eyeing up its prey, but he did not speak. At length, the silence became unbearable, and Abigail could hold her tongue no longer.

“Are we to stay silent the whole dance?” They crossed the room, and still Mr Kane did not speak.

“There must be something upon which we could converse. You could talk about the dance, or your home in Polisville, perhaps,” she continued.

Mr Kane frowned. “Why would you wish to know about my estate?”

Abigail smiled. “Purely for the sake of conversation, Mr Kane. Have no fear, I do not have designs upon your fortune.”

“Then you would be uncommon amongst your sex.”

“Is that so? Are all women in want of a man’s fortune, in your experience?”

“Do you think all men are in want of a wife?”

“Clearly not all men.” They separated as the couples moved places, and then came together again.

“You are referring to me, I assume. You don’t believe I am in need of a wife?”

“I fear that your standards are so high, you will not find a woman good enough.”

“There are many accomplishments a woman must have in order to find a husband. Able to dance, play piano, sing, do needlework. Most women I meet are accomplished in these things, but there are not many who will read a book, and converse with their husband about it.  There are very few women who can attract the mind, as well as the heart.”

“Very few women indeed, Mr Kane. It is no wonder you have not yet found the right one.”

Mr Kane fell silent again, staring at her as they danced, and Abigail held his gaze, for it seemed as though there was a challenge within it, and she could not back down.

After another uncomfortable silence, Mr Kane spoke. “Reverend Jaha thinks highly of you.”

Abigail wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement, but she answered it anyway.

“He is an old family friend.”

Mr Kane sniffed, and frowned. “He is a man of poor taste, generally speaking.”

Abigail stiffened. Was he deliberately insulting her? The sheer front of this man!

“Is he indeed? Well, I suppose not everyone is fortunate enough to have your breeding and education, Mr Kane. And yet somehow we muddle through our lives, barely understanding what we see around us.”

Mr Kane coughed. “I did not mean.”

“Oh, I know very well what you mean. I have spent some time examining your character this evening, and you harbour a prejudice against all those you deem lower than you, no matter what their true natures.”

“I take people only as I find them, Miss Griffin.

“And you find us disappointing.”

“Most of you, yes.”

Abigail laughed. “Well, you are honest at least, Mr Kane.”

At that moment, Mr Green came over to them.

“What a splendid party this is, Miss Griffin, Mr Kane.”

Abigail curtsied. “Indeed it is, Mr Green. Most of the people in attendance are very pleasant to spend time with.”

Mr Kane took a deep breath at her words, she could hear its intake, and its slow exhale.

“I hope we have many more to come, Miss Griffin. I expect there will be a happy event to celebrate soon enough.” Mr Green indicated Caroline and Mr Sinclair, who were dancing together, and gazing into each other’s eyes in a way that was full of love and admiration, and not the deep contempt with which Mr Kane had looked at Abigail.

“Perhaps we shall.” Abigail smiled at Mr Green and Mr Kane. The latter’s face had darkened, as though a thunder cloud had passed in front of it. “Wouldn’t that be a joy?”

“Indeed, indeed. Mr Kane, you will be seeing a lot more of the Griffin family in the future I am certain.”

“I doubt that,” replied Mr Kane, and Mr Green looked at Abigail and rolled his eyes. Abigail did not bother to hide her smile.

After Mr Green’s departure there were only a few more steps left in the dance. Mr Kane held Abigail’s hand as he escorted her to the side of the room.

“May we meet again,” he said, as he bowed low.

“Oh, I think that is the last thing you should want,” replied Abigail, and she left to join her mother who was playing whist at the card table.

Mr Kane stood and watched her leave. She was a strange creature, lively, and not afraid to speak her mind. She attracted him more than he liked. If it were not for her lowly status and poor connections, he might find himself on dangerous ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane makes an admission, and there is a proposal

After a night of dancing, avoiding Mr Kane, trying but failing to avoid Reverend Jaha, and dealing with her mother and her wayward siblings, Abigail was desperate for some time alone. The next day was fine, and mild for the time of year. The sun rose unimpeded in a clear blue sky, and Abigail went for a long walk in the countryside surrounding Weatherton. The ice and frost were melting, leaving the ground soft and muddy. It splattered up her stockings and dirtied the hem of her dress, but she didn’t care. It was a joy to be out in the fresh air with no sound but the birds calling to warn each other she was there. No sibling squabbling, no mother moaning, just peace. Last night had been interesting to say the least.

Reverend Jaha had been unshakeable, like a nagging cold, and she had the dreadful feeling he was working up to something that Abigail feared she would not like. The only time he’d been quiet was when Mr Kane had interceded and asked her to dance. Quite why the man had decided she was worthy of a modicum of his time Abigail didn’t know. Perhaps she was the least tedious option available at the time, or perhaps he was simply amusing himself with her. She had watched him on occasion throughout the rest of the evening, and he had engaged only with the Sinclairs, rebuffing any attempts by other guests to strike up conversation.

Nevertheless, even his dark, moody face, and Jaha’s simpering smile had not distracted from the highlight of the evening, which was Mr Sinclair’s obvious devotion to Callie. It gladdened Abigail’s heart to see her sister so admired, and by such a wonderful man. What a contrast he was to Mr Kane, and not for the first time she wondered how two such disparate personalities had become friends. As Hannah Green had said the other day, it was alleged that Mr Kane was more agreeable when in conversation with his own kind, so perhaps he was hiding a witty and sparkling personality beneath that brooding, haughty exterior.

After another half hour of walking, Abigail reached a lane lined with old hawthorns, their thick, gnarly trunks twisted and covered with silver-grey lichens. The branches of the hawthorns on both sides of the lane touched each other overhead, and Abigail imagined it was a beautiful view in the summer with their green leaves forming an archway. As it was, the branches were bare, but they allowed the bright blue of the sky to filter through, and the sight lifted Abigail’s heart. The joy did not last long, because in the distance she could see a couple walking towards her. The long, loping gait of the man was familiar, and Abigail’s heart sank as she recognised Mr Kane arm in arm with a woman who was not Miss Sinclair. As they drew closer it was clear the woman was more of a girl, much younger than Mr Kane’s eight-and-twenty years, or Abigail’s own twenty. She had the same dark hair as Mr Kane, the same brown eyes and olive skin. They made a striking pair, both clad in rich brown coats and long, black boots. Abigail thought they would walk past with simply a nod, but Mr Kane stopped, and bowed his head. Abigail was forced to curtsy, noticing for the first time just how dirty her skirts and boots were. She felt the difference between her and the Kanes, for she was certain that the young girl was his sister, or some other close relative, and felt sure Mr Kane would notice it too.

“Miss Griffin. We do meet again.”

“Indeed we do, Mr Kane. I hope that is not an inconvenience for you.”

“Not at all. May I present my sister, Miss Raven Kane. Raven, this is Miss Abigail Griffin, of Arkadia.”

Abigail curtsied again. “Miss Kane. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. Are you staying at Weatherton?”

“I am, yes. With my mother and father and my four sisters.”

“Four sisters?” Miss Kane laughed. “How wonderful. I have always wished for a sister. Alas, I have only Marcus. He is a dear, kind brother, but not a match for a sister.”

“Is he?” Abigail looked Mr Kane up and down, trying to wrap the words ‘dear’ and ‘kind’ around him, to see how they suited. She could not make them fit. “I am sure Mr Kane is a great companion to those he loves.”

Mr Kane’s brow creased a little as he looked at Abigail. His eyes were so penetrating it made her uncomfortable, like she was a specimen beneath the microscope, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her as though that would help shield her from his gaze. Mr Kane’s frown grew deeper.

“Are you cold, Miss Griffin? Perhaps you should take my coat?” He started to unclasp the buckle at his throat, but Abigail held out a hand to stop him.

“That is not necessary. I am quite used to walking in these conditions, Mr Kane.” She was surprised at this display of gallantry from the man who had only a few nights ago abandoned her unceremoniously to the attentions of Reverend Jaha. “Thank you,” she added as an afterthought.

Mr Kane nodded, and fastened the clasp again. “You have recovered, from last night’s dancing?”

“I am well recovered, thank you.”

Raven clapped her gloved hands. “Tell me all about the ball, Abigail. Did my brother stand brooding in the corner all night as he usually does?”

“Raven, there really is no need to question Miss Griffin in this manner.” Mr Kane gave his sister a look that was meant to quieten her, but Abigail could tell Miss Kane was a spirited girl, who was not intimidated by her older brother in the slightest.

“Ignore, him, Miss Griffin. Tell me.”

“He did attempt one dance,” replied Abigail.

“He did?” Miss Kane looked shocked. “With whom?”

Abigail coughed, feeling embarrassed for some reason. Mr Kane was looking away, towards the hawthorn hedge. “It was I who had the pleasure.”

Miss Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “He danced with you. I see.” She turned to look at her brother, but he did not return the look.

“I’m afraid I rather tired him out with my poor attempts at conversation. I suspect Mr Kane thinks I talk too much.” Kane did not refute Abigail’s observation, and she smiled to herself. “Will you be staying at Weatherton yourself, Miss Kane?”

“Oh, please call me Raven. Yes, I will be staying as long as my brother remains. He is my guardian, and now that I have finished school for the holidays, where he goes, I go.”

“You are still at school? I did not realise.”

“My sister is sixteen, Miss Griffin. She is not yet out.” Kane put a hand protectively on his sister’s arm.

“Our father died six years ago, our mother long before that,” said Miss Kane. “Marcus is the only family I have left.”

“Well, I will look forward to seeing you at dinner later, Raven.”

“And I shall look forward to seeing you. I have been bereft of interesting company of late.”

Mr Kane took his sister’s arm. “We should continue our journey, Raven. You will excuse us, Miss Griffin.”

“Of course. Enjoy your walk.”

“Thank you.” Mr Kane bowed, and Raven smiled. Abigail continued down the lane on her return to Weatherton. She was very pleased to have met Mr Kane’s sister, who seemed to be most agreeable. Perhaps she would make Mr Kane more tolerable whilst she was here.

Miss Kane linked her arm through that of her brother and they continued up the lane.

“She is a most interesting girl, Miss Abigail Griffin,” she remarked. “Did you see how filthy her clothes were? Her skirts and boots were covered with mud!”

“Were they? I did not notice.”

“No,” replied Miss Kane. “I suspect you did not, for you spent most of the conversation either staring into her eyes or examining the bark of the hawthorn.”

“She is a singular girl,” replied Mr Kane.

“You are taken with her?”

“If she weren’t so low born, I fear I should want to marry her.”

“Her status is not everything, Marcus.”

“There has been more than enough scandal in this family.” He looked pointedly at Raven, and she lowered her glance. “It is beholden upon me to find a wife suitable to one day be the Lady of Polisville. My own feelings are of no regard in the matter.”

“That is unfortunate,” replied Miss Kane.

“Nevertheless, it is as it should be,” replied Kane with a sigh.

\---

The evening at Weatherton was to be an informal affair. People gathered in the drawing room to talk, read, or play cards. Abigail sat at the piano, teasing out a tune she’d painstakingly learned recently. She wasn’t the most natural pianist, and loathed to spend the time necessary to practice. She considered herself passable, but nothing more. She had her head down, concentrating on the music, so she didn’t hear anyone approach until a voice spoke her name. She looked up, and Mr Kane was standing next to the piano with his sister, Raven.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Abigail,” said Raven.

“Raven. Mr Kane. We meet again.” Abigail smiled, and Raven leaned in towards her.

“You look lovely tonight, much cleaner than when we saw you earlier.”

Abigail coloured a little, remembering how smart they had looked and how filthy she had been. It was little wonder Mr Kane looked down on her. “The countryside can be very unforgiving.”

“Not if one keeps to the lanes,” replied Mr Kane with a disapproving look.

“I try my upmost to stay as far away from the lanes as it is possible to be, Mr Kane. Life is much more entertaining that way.”

“That is easier to do when one has no expectations in life, Miss Griffin.”

Abigail went red again, though with anger this time. “Perhaps you are right. My expectations of this evening are certainly very low, and getting lower as each minute progresses.”

“You play the piano quite beautifully, Miss Griffin,” said Raven, trying to defuse the tension that had arisen.

“You are too kind. My skills are passable at best.”

“It is a shame there will not be another ball for a couple of days. I’m sure my brother would be delighted to dance with you again, and I would be thrilled to see it.”

“Oh, I doubt that Mr Kane would dance with me again. Indeed, I do not know why I was singled out for his attention, for he paid little heed to anyone else in the room that night.”

“I was unacquainted with anyone other than my own party, and yourself, at that point,” replied Kane.

“Social gatherings are such difficult places to make conversation, you are right.”

“I will admit it is a fault of my nature that I am unable to make small talk with strangers. I cannot force myself to be interested in their conversations if I am not.”

“I am unable to play this pianoforte as well as I would like, but that is because I do not care to practice. I do not blame my fingers for not being able to run over the keys as accurately as I would like.”

Kane smiled. “You are right. And you play beautifully. You have clearly tried to overcome your failing more than I have, although I suspect we are neither accustomed to adjusting our characters to suit others.”

Abigail examined Mr Kane as he smiled. It transformed his face, lighting his brown eyes up, making them crease at the edges. She returned his smile and they looked at each other for a moment.

“I do not see the need to adjust myself to suit others, you are correct. There are those that find me interesting, and there are those that find me merely tolerable. I cannot help how I am seen by others.”

“Oh, I am sure no one thinks you merely tolerable, Miss Griffin. You are a most lively person.” Miss Kane put her hand on Abigail’s and smiled.

“Oh, there are some people who find me quite disagreeable, is that not so, Mr Kane?”

“I had not had the pleasure of knowing you then,” replied Kane with a stiff expression on his face.

“And yet you formed an opinion so readily. Do you always make decisions based upon your prejudice?”

Kane coloured slightly at her words, and Abigail felt a strange thrill that she had hit a nerve within him so accurately.

“I fear you are basing your own judgement of my character upon little known facts as well, Miss Griffin. You would do well to pay heed to your own prejudice.”

Before Abigail could reply they were interrupted by Reverend Jaha, who was resplendent in a bright red necktie.

“Ah, Mr Kane, and Miss Griffin, and who do we have here?” He bowed before the ladies.

Kane grimaced, he could not hide the look from his face, and Abigail smiled. “This is my sister, Miss Raven Kane.”

“I am honoured to meet you, sir,” replied Raven.

“Your sister. Ah, my dear, what a pleasure. So young you are, and so like your brother. Why they are two peas in a pod, aren’t they, dear Abigail?”

Kane must have swallowed some air, because he choked, and coughed.

“They are a handsome family, that is plain to see,” replied Abigail.

“Indeed, indeed, but no one is more lovely than you. My dear, might I have a word, in private?”

Abigail’s heart sank. She looked at Kane, who was frowning. “I was in the middle of conversing with Mr Kane and his sister.”

“It is quite alright,” said Kane. “I would not wish to keep you from your good friend.”

Abigail opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak he had taken Raven’s arm.

“I will bid you good day.” He bowed and led his sister away.

Reverend Jaha took Abigail’s elbow and steered her towards a window seat.

“My dear Abigail. We have known each other many years now, have we not?”

“Too many to count, Reverend.”

“Yes, yes. I have watched you blossom into the woman you are today, quite the loveliest woman I have the pleasure of knowing, and I have a wide social circle as you know.”

“You are most fortunate, Reverend Jaha.”

“I am, I am. I have come straight here from Lady de Vie’s estate this morning. I was there to complete some paperwork.”

“Is that so?” Abigail looked around the room, desperate to find someone or some reason to remove herself from this conversation. Her eyes alighted on Mr Kane, who was standing across the room, looking at her. Abigail had noticed his attentions before, and she was at a loss to explain them. Why he felt the need to watch her when he so clearly disdained her she did not understand. Perhaps she was a morbid fascination for him.

“My dear.” Jaha was still speaking, and Abigail reluctantly drew her attention back to him. “I have secured my tenure at the church in perpetuity. It brings me a stipend of some four thousand pounds per annum.” He bobbed his head, and looked proudly at her. Abigail knew a response was required.

“That is wonderful news.”

“Oh, I am glad you think so. So glad. Because you see, my dear Abigail, it means I am at last in a position to marry.”

A knot tightened in Abigail’s stomach. Was this what her mother was referring to the other night? She kept her answer non-committal. “I am pleased for you.”

“I hope you will be more than that, my dear. You see, it is you that I should like to share my life with. It is your hand that I request in marriage.” He bowed so low that Abigail thought he would topple over.

“I. I am most flattered, Reverend Jaha.”

“Oh, that is wonderful to hear.” He straightened himself up slowly, grasping her hand to help himself rise. He did not immediately let go, so Abigail was forced to remove it herself. She glanced up, and Mr Kane was still watching. He was leaning forward with one hand on the back of the chair in front of him, as though poised to pounce on something or someone unexpected.

“No, Sir, you mistake me. I thank you for your kind offer, but I am afraid I cannot possibly accept. I have no regard for fortune, or a large social circle.”

“Am I to understand that this is a new trend, for the lady to refuse the man initially, and so be asked a second time?”

“Indeed not, sir. I would not be so false as to risk a welcomed proposal by rejecting it the first time. No. I have no wish to marry you. You would not make me happy, and I am quite certain I would not make you happy.”

She rose from the window seat, but Reverend Jaha stopped her. “I shall hope that the next time I see you, your answer will be different.”

“I have no intention whatsoever of changing my answer. It is, and will always be, no.”

“We shall see, we shall see. I have faith in you, dear Abigail. I will be at the ball tomorrow night, and I am certain you will have a different answer when you have had the opportunity to reflect upon it.”

With that he bowed and left the room. Abigail stumbled in a daze across the room towards Caroline. Caroline saw something in her face and rushed to her.

“My dear Abby, what has happened?”

Abigail took hold of Caroline’s arm. “Reverend Jaha has asked me to marry him.”

“Oh, Abby.” Caroline led Abigail away so that they could converse out of earshot of other people in the room. They walked past Kane, who stood rooted to his spot behind the chair, his hand gripping the back firmly, fingers curling into the soft fabric, leaving dents in the damask.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve arrives, and brings with it festivities, gifts, revelations, and declarations. Will anyone be left standing at the end of the night?

Abigail enjoyed a few days of peace without the presence of Reverend Jaha, who had left her to think over his proposal, or Mr Kane, who had gone down to London to take care of some urgent business. She had passed the time with the family, walking, and playing cards.

When Christmas Eve dawned, snow had fallen overnight and blanketed the grounds. Abigail was curled up in the orangery, which was the perfect bolthole from all the servants who were rushing around with armfuls of gifts and decorations. They were preparing for the biggest ball of the year, which was being held that night. The orangery had huge windows that looked out onto the shrubbery where she had talked with the Sinclairs and Mr Kane the previous week. The Christmas rose was barely visible, its head drooping under the weight of snow. Abigail thought it looked sad, as though it was carrying the weight of the world. It was a little cold in the orangery, so no one else ventured in, but Abigail loved the peace of it, with no one to disturb her. She pulled her shawl tighter around her, and continued reading her book.

She was disappointed and more than a little annoyed, then, when her peace was interrupted by one of the footmen introducing Reverend Jaha. She stood as the man entered the room. He was dressed all in black except for a white cravat so voluminous it threatened to swallow him up to the mouth. When he bowed low, his face disappeared into the scarf and only his eyes were visible as they looked up at her, full of expectation. Abigail sighed.

“Reverend Jaha. What can I do for you?”

“My dear Abigail. I trust you are well?”

“I am very well, thank you. I am enjoying some peace before the party this evening.”

“It will be a most radiant party, my dear. Most radiant. I was visiting with Lady de Vie this morning, and she said she may attend once her other engagements are complete.”

“I would be most interested to meet her.” Abigail found Reverend Jaha’s constant references to Lady de Vie trying, but she was keen to meet the woman who was Mr Kane’s aunt. “Will Miss de Vie be in attendance?”

“It is more than likely, dear Abigail, for where Lady de Vie goes, Miss de Vie usually follows.”

Abigail was curious to see the girl whose hand in marriage Mr Kane had refused. Hannah had told her that she was young and very beautiful with many accomplishments. What reason could Mr Kane have had to turn her down? Perhaps no woman would ever be good enough for him.

“It will be an interesting evening,” she said.

“Indeed, indeed. My dear.” Reverend Jaha wrung his hands, and bobbed his head again. “Have you given any more thought to my proposal? I have passed the last few days in such a state of anticipation at your agreement.”

“Reverend Jaha. I am quite sure I made it plain that I have no intention of marrying you.”

“You were taken by surprise, my dear, I realise that now. I thought, after you had some time to consider what I am offering you, you would be more congenial to the idea.”

“You cannot offer me anything that I need, for we are most unsuited to each other. You must realise that.”

“I have four thousand pounds per annum, and a place in high society. It is a good offer, one that you would do well to consider.”

Abigail bristled at his comment. The cheek of the man! Such a high opinion of himself he had, and with little to back it up that she could see.

“You force me to speak plainly. I cannot, and will not marry you. Money and status are the concerns of my mother, not me. Perhaps this is foolish of me, but I cannot marry someone whom I do not love, or am suited to. I beg you to accept my answer. I feel sure there is someone who will make a far better wife for you than I.”

“My dear…” Reverend Jaha reached out an arm to her, but Abigail moved away.

“I bid you good day, Reverend Jaha.”

Abigail picked up her book and left the orangery. She was affronted by Jaha’s cocky assertion that he had everything she could want from a husband. A woman in want of a fortune may need a husband, but that did not mean she should take any man who bestows his wishes on her, no matter what her personal feelings. Her mother would say she was destined to be an old maid, but Abigail would rather that than an unsuitable marriage with a man she did not love.

\---

When Abigail walked into the ballroom that Christmas Eve night, she couldn’t hide a gasp as she took in the surroundings. The room was festooned with white streamers from which hung crystals that sparkled in the candlelight. A pine tree had been cut from the woods and was standing proudly in the corner of the room, so tall its topmost branch bent slightly where it touched the ceiling. The tree was decorated with crystals and other jewels, and candles hung from its branches. Gifts were piled beneath the tree, all wrapped in silver paper and tied up with ribbons of multitudinous colours. The gentlemen were dapper in tailcoats and the ladies dazzled in ball gowns of every shade. It was a magical sight.

As the Griffin family entered, all eyes turned to look at them, or rather one of them in particular. Caroline glowed in a green dress that accentuated her olive skin and the deep brown of her eyes. Abigail smiled as Mr Sinclair immediately broke off his conversation and came over to their party to talk to Caroline. Abigail’s own dress was the pale blue of a winter sky with a trim of tiny cornflowers around the bodice. She had sewn pearls into the hem of her skirt and sleeves. Instead of her ruby necklace she wore a sapphire loaned by her mother for the occasion. It had a long chain, and nestled into her bosom where its presence was heavy and reassuring. Abigail fingered it while she looked around the room. There was no sign of Reverend Jaha, thank goodness, or Mr Kane. Raven was across the room and she nodded to Abigail and smiled. Abigail went to her, grateful for some company other than that of her family for a change.

“Dear Abigail. I’m so glad to see you here. I thought I was going to be alone.”

“Your brother is not with you tonight?”

“He is delayed in London. I am not certain if he will return in time.”

Abigail felt a pang of disappointment. She had been secretly looking forward to baiting him. He was so stiff and pompous, it was a pleasure to battle with him verbally and make him uncomfortable.

“The snow might also serve to delay his arrival,” she said.

“I hope not, for he is my only companion at these events, although I have you now, dear Abigail.” She linked her arm through Abigail’s. Abigail squeezed her hand.

“It is lovely to have you to talk to as well. You must tell me about yourself. Where is your school?”

“Oh, it is on the south coast, near Lyme Regis. I haven’t been there that long.”

“There was another school, before?”

“I was home-schooled. After our parents died, Marcus wanted me to stay close to him, so that I would not be alone. Although I think it was he who did not wish to be alone.” She gave Abigail a conspiratorial wink.

This was a new side to Mr Kane that Abigail would never have guessed existed. Although she knew he was Raven’s guardian, she had not supposed it was a role he would relish particularly, and yet he had actively chosen to be more involved with his sister.

“What decided him to send you away to school now if he wished you to be close to him?”

“Oh. Well.” Raven looked past Abigail as she spoke. “He. Erm. He thought that I needed to make connections, for when I come out to society.”

Abigail nodded. “I don’t suppose being holed up in Derbyshire is suitable for a young girl. Although Lyme is such a long way away.”

“My brother is often in London, Abigail. He sees me whenever he can.”

“That is very solicitous of him.”

Raven nodded and smiled. At that moment Nathan Miller approached them. He bowed to both ladies.

“Miss Griffin. May I have the honour of a dance.”

“Oh, I am with my friend, Miss Kane.”

“Oh, please dance, Abigail. I should love to watch you, and I will be here when you return.”

“If you are sure?”

Raven nodded, and Abigail took the dance floor with Mr Miller. She was dancing her fourth dance of the night, this time with Doctor Jackson, when Mr Kane walked into the room. He stood just inside the entrance, body straight, head up, eyes scanning the room. He was fiddling with the cufflinks on his tailcoat. Unlike the other men whose tailcoats were black, his jacket was the deep blue of a moonlit night sky, and his waistcoat the silver of stars. The combination made his olive skin darker, more exotic. He caught Abigail’s eye and stared at her as she danced. She flushed under his gaze. He bowed his head in acknowledgement, and she smiled and nodded out of politeness. She was glad to see him. At least now Raven would have someone to talk to while Abigail danced.

Kane watched Miss Griffin dance with the doctor from the local village. She was quite the vision in her pale blue dress and white pearls. He had looked for her as soon as he entered the room, hoping she would be in attendance. His feelings for her vexed him greatly, and he knew he should not allow them utterance, but she was the most entertaining creature in a room full of bores, and he could not help but watch her as she danced and laughed with the doctor.

“She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” He looked around as his sister approached him.

“The dress is most befitting of her, yes.”

“Your feelings have not changed as you hoped they would during your time in London?”

“I…” Kane frowned at his sister. “I did not go to London for that reason. I had business to attend.”

“I know you had business, but I also know you, brother. You are taken with her, but you are trying to fight it. She is not good enough for you.”

“She is not, and there is nothing to be done about it.”

“Are you certain of that?”

Kane frowned again, and turned to look back at Miss Griffin. It would be a folly to marry such a girl, a betrayal of his family and his status. Yet she entranced him so. He sighed.

“You are torn,” continued Raven.

“You are too old for your years,” replied Kane, and he folded his arms to indicate that the conversation was over. Raven took his hint, and fell silent, a knowing smile on her face.

Kane watched Abigail dance with two more men and then could stand it no longer. He approached as the second dance came to an end.

He bowed. “Miss Griffin.”

Abigail curtsied. “Mr Kane. You have made it back from London in time. I am glad.”

“You are?”

“Indeed. It is the biggest party of the year, and it would not be the same without the opportunity of watching you avoid speaking to as many people as possible. I was quite bereft when I thought you would not be here.” She smiled, her eyes flashing in challenge, and Kane had to fight to hold himself in check.

“Then the journey I endured has been worth it. I would not wish to disappoint you.”

“That remains to be seen, Mr Kane. The night is yet young.”

Kane twiddled the silver stud in his cuff as he regarded her. He should not ask her to dance, he should stay as far away from her as possible, but even as he had the thought he heard himself ask the question.

“Are you taken for the next dance?”

“I am not. Are you certain you are ready for the vigour of a Scottish Reel after your arduous journey?”

“I’m certain I am more than capable of keeping up with you, Miss Griffin.”

“We shall see.”

The music commenced, and they formed up with the other couples.

“Will you talk to me more, this time, Mr Kane? When last we danced you were most taciturn. Perhaps you cannot do both things at the same time?”

“I do not waste my breath on frivolous words, Miss Griffin,” he said as they held hands briefly in the middle of the floor. “What is the point?”

“Conversation, Mr Kane, is what separates us from the animal kingdom. It is what makes us human.”

“The ability to speak is the gift of humanity, I agree. Unfortunately, too many people abuse the gift, and speak words as they breathe air, often, and without thinking.”

“I agree that there are some who should choose their words more wisely, and I refer not only to those who talk too much, but also those who talk too little.”

Abigail curled her gloved fingers around his as they marched, and Kane resisted the temptation to let his thumb graze over them. Her proximity was disturbing his equilibrium. This really was a terrible mistake. He decided to change the subject to another one that had been playing on his mind since the last time they met.

“I have not seen Reverend Jaha here this evening.”

“No,” replied Abigail. “Perhaps he will arrive later, with Lady de Vie.”

“Lady de Vie is attending the party?”

“She intends to if her other engagements are complete.” Abigail looked at him intently. “Miss de Vie will be with her.”

The way she looked at him told him that she knew of his rejection of his cousin. She was curious about his past, and he wondered why. Could she be as intrigued by him as he was by her? She claimed to have wished for his attendance at the ball, but that was just so that she could entertain herself at his expense.

“You are close with Miss de Vie, I believe?”

“You are close with Reverend Jaha, so I heard.”

Abigail coloured a little and Kane knew he had hit a nerve, but of what kind?

“He is a family friend.”

“As is Miss de Vie, a cousin, in fact, nothing more.”

Abigail nodded, and fell silent for once. He had turned her own curiosity on herself and now she could not risk probing him further without revealing her own feelings about Jaha which she seemed reluctant to do. Had she answered the man’s proposal in the affirmative? He had to know.

“I thought perhaps congratulations might be in order?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had heard, erm, that you were perhaps promised to Reverend Jaha.” The music came to an end as he asked that question, and he bowed to Abigail, and took her hand to lead her from the floor.

She stood still for a moment, looking at him, and then removed her hand from his. “I don’t believe that is any of your business, Mr Kane,” she said, before walking towards her mother, leaving him alone in the centre of the dancefloor.

Abigail cursed as she walked towards her family. The nerve of that man! How presumptuous of him to ask her about Reverend Jaha as if he had the right to know everything about her, whilst deflecting her from his own past. It was curious that he was interested, though. Why did he care? She had overreacted perhaps, to his question, but she did not like the thought of him knowing about Jaha’s proposal. It was a personal matter, and nothing to do with him.

“What is the matter, Abby? Your face looks as though you have lost a pound and found a penny.” Mr Griffin had a look of concern on his face.

“Oh, it is nothing papa. Just that man Mr Kane.”

“That man! What are you doing even entertaining him, Abby, after what he said about you.” Mrs Griffin folded her arms under her ample bosom and glared at Abigail.

“He is not quite so terrible as I first thought. He has one or two redeeming qualities.” Abigail felt a strange urge to defend Mr Kane, despite his behaviour just then.

“Does he indeed? Well I fail to see what they could be. No man talks about my daughter in that manner. So arrogant, and rude!”

“I agree he is arrogant, and rude, but he is also a loving guardian to his sister, and a good and loyal friend by all accounts.”

“I’m sure he is most agreeable to his own kind. It is how you treat others that counts.”

“Your mother is right, Abby,” interjected Mr Griffin. “A true gentleman would be courteous to all he meets.”

“Of course, papa. It is just. I feel perhaps that he is misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood! Pah!” Mrs Griffin spat out the last words. “Have you been drinking wine, Abby? He is no good, and twenty thousand per annum does not make him so.”

Abigail sighed and looked across to where Mr Kane was talking to his sister. He smiled at something she said, and placed a kiss on her forehead. He caught Abigail looking at him, and she turned away quickly, only to find herself staring at Reverend Jaha.

“Good evening, Miss Griffin, Griffin family.”

“Good evening, Reverend Jaha. I did not realise you had arrived.”

“I have been here some time. Observing. Might I have a word.” He took Abigail’s arm and led her away before she had the chance to protest.

“I have not changed my mind, I am afraid. There is nothing you can say to help your cause.”

“Oh, I am aware of that, dear Abigail, and I understand now why you turned me down.”

“You do? Oh.” Abigail felt huge relief. She had been concerned that Reverend Jaha would not take no for an answer, so she was pleased that he had finally accepted her decision.

“Yes. You are in love with Mr Kane.”

Abigail’s mouth dropped open at his words. “I beg your pardon?”

“I suspected it when I last saw you together, and tonight my suspicions have been confirmed.”

Abigail was indignant. Just when she thought the man had come to his senses he came up with this nonsense. “You are quite mistaken, I can assure you.”

“I think not, and I have to say, he is not the man you think.”

“I do not think anything of Mr Kane. You are confused, Reverend Jaha.”

“You know he had a brother.”

“I did not. Mr Kane has only his sister, Miss Raven Kane.”

“A brother in all but name, Finn Collins. An orphaned young man who was brought up in their household by Mr Kane’s parents as one of their own. A brilliant man by all accounts. Handsome, witty. The opposite of Kane in every way.”

“I did not know of this man.”

“No, there is much he has not told you of himself.”

“What happened with Mr Collins?” Abigail’s heart was beating fast, her palms growing sweaty. She was afraid to know what Mr Kane had done, and fascinated at the same time.

“When Mr Kane’s mother died, the estate was inherited by Mr Kane of course, who had reached the age of majority. Mr Collins was sixteen at the time, and Miss Kane just ten, poor motherless girl.” Reverend Jaha put his hand to his eye as though to wipe away a tear, though his hand did not come away wet. “A substantial sum was put into trust for Mr Collins for when he turned twenty-one. Mr Kane was in charge of the money.”

He stopped and looked at Abigail, to see that she was following him, that she was interested in the story. She suspected the story wasn’t going to end well for Mr Kane. She had felt there was something odd about him, something he had to hide, and perhaps this was it. She had to know.

“Please continue.”

Jaha nodded. “All was well, or so it seemed. Mr Collins continued to live with the Kanes, and Mr Kane supported him until he came of age to inherit his own fortune. You will not _believe_ what Mr Kane did then, Abigail.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered into her ear. “Last year, just before Mr Collins turned twenty-one, Mr Kane disinherited him! He found a loophole in the will, and set the best lawyers in the land to exploit it.”

Reverend Jaha stood back, and nodded at Abigail. She was aghast at Jaha’s tale.

“Why would Mr Kane disinherit his adopted brother? Surely he has more than enough fortune of his own.”

“Why indeed, my dear. Well, I think you know why in your heart. His name and his fortune are everything to him. He is a proud man who cannot tolerate those who are beneath him. It was too great a notion for him to contemplate, that a low-born man who was not a blood relative should inherit a part of his own fortune, and perhaps even his name.”

Abigail was so shocked at this news she could hardly speak. “How do you know of this?”

“I had a most enlightening conversation with Lady de Vie this afternoon.”

So the tale must be true, if Mr Kane’s own aunt was relaying it. There could not be a more reliable witness than a lady of the realm, and one of Mr Kane’s few remaining blood relatives. The behaviour certainly fitted the Mr Kane she had first met, the man for whom she was merely tolerable, and too low-bred. The man she had started to know, however, she had thought kinder, more complex than he appeared at face value. How wrong she was.

“If you want more proof of his poor character, dear Abigail, then you need look no further than his treatment of Miss de Vie.”

“What did he do to Miss de Vie?”

“He treated her most abominably, dear Abigail. He knew she was in love with him, and he courted her favour, and then when her feelings were declared, and the match approved by her mother, he told her in no uncertain terms that he could never marry her, and that she was not good enough for him.”

“He did not!” Abigail was shocked, and yet not surprised. Of course she was not good enough for him, what woman ever would be? And yet to toy with her, to play with her feelings. That was cruel, and she had not believed him to be a cruel man. Insensitive perhaps, unforgiving maybe, but not cruel.

“I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Abigail,” said Reverend Jaha with a huge smile that he could not hide.

“It is of no concern to me, because as I told you, I am not in love with Mr Kane and most certainly never will be. I thank you for the information, however, for I shall make certain that none of my friends goes anywhere near him in future.

“I am glad you see it that way, my dear. I did not wish for you to be hurt by this news.”

“You need not fear. My feelings are not in any danger. Mr Kane, on the other hand, should be the one to be concerned.”

“Oh, you cannot speak of this with him, Abigail, for then he will know that Lady de Vie has told me, and that would never do. I was sworn to secrecy by her ladyship but I felt I could not keep such information from you, my dear friend, for it would break my heart if he should treat you in that manner.”

“You are too kind, Reverend Jaha. I wonder if you would excuse me, though, for a moment. I need some air.”

“Of course, my dear. It has all been a shock I am sure. I had the same reaction myself this afternoon.”

Reverend Jaha excused himself and Abigail went through to the orangery and out into the cold night air. The sky was black and cloudless, and the Milky Way stretched above, heavy with stars that twinkled at her. Abigail was seething with anger at Mr Kane, and despite what she had said to Revered Jaha, she did feel hurt. She was annoyed with herself for falling for Mr Kane’s act, for starting to believe in him, for having the first stirrings of respect for him.

She had not been outside more than five minutes when the door from the orangery opened. She turned to see who it was, praying that it was not Reverend Jaha for she had tolerated him enough for a lifetime. She was not expecting to see Mr Kane, and she caught her breath in surprise. He stared at her, not smiling, or smirking, just staring. Abigail stared back, unable to speak, and the silence was heavier than all the stars in the sky above them. Kane began to pace back and forth, his arms behind his back, his head down. His footsteps crunched in the snow. Abigail could take his silence no longer. What was he doing here? Did he know about her conversation with the Reverend?

“What are you doing out here, Mr Kane?”

He stopped pacing a yard from her, and looked at her, his dark eyes piercing hers. She shivered.

“You must be cold.” He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders before she could say no. Abigail wanted to shrug it off but politeness prevented her from doing so, and besides she was cold, and it was his fault she was out here rather than inside dancing and making merry. She pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders. It smelled of him, of musk and French cologne.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He reached into his trouser pocket and retrieved a small object wrapped in gold paper. “I didn’t get the opportunity to give this to you earlier.” He handed the gift to Abigail who was flummoxed for a moment.

“What is this?”

“A small token.”

She didn’t want to unwrap it but he was looking at her in such a strange way she felt she had no choice. She pulled the ribbon and the paper away to reveal a small book of poems.

“I have seen that you like to read,” Kane continued.

“I cannot accept this.”

“It is a gift freely given.”

Abigail shook her head and held the book out to Kane. He didn’t take it. He began pacing again, and she started to grow tired of this meeting. If he knew about her conversation and wanted to talk about it then she would prefer him to just come out and say it.

“I really must go back inside.” She started to take his jacket off, but he held out a hand to her.

“No. Please don’t. I can hide my feelings no longer. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Abigail’s shock was so great she felt it course through her with some violence. She was rendered speechless, and Mr Kane saw that as encouragement to continue his declaration.

“I know we have not known each other long, but I cannot get you out of my mind. You have a sparkling wit, and a quick brain, and you have bewitched me.”

Abigail listened to his words in stunned silence. Her face coloured, and her pulse raced. Up until she had spoken with Jaha she had felt some warmth towards Mr Kane, and this kept her listening to him, even though she could hardly believe what he was saying. She was aware that to have the love of such a man was an honour, or would be to most women, and this prevented her from rejecting him outright.

“I have tried hard to fight it,” he continued, “for such a marriage is beneath me, and will likely ruin me, and my family name. My aunt will disapprove of the match, and I have an uncle in London whom I consulted earlier today. He advised me against this course of action, but I cannot heed his words, for I am in love with you. I was unsure whether you felt the same for me, until I discovered that you had rejected Reverend Jaha. You were so amusing when we were dancing, I felt sure, and then you cut me off so abruptly I was uncertain again.”

Abigail’s anger started to grow the longer he talked, and the more he detailed all the reasons why he should not marry her, and how difficult it was for him to overcome them, and listed all the consequences for himself that would come of marrying a low-bred commoner such as herself. She looked at him. Despite his pacing, and his professed uncertainty as to whether she returned his love, he seemed confident that she would answer in the affirmative. When he paused several times during his declaration to look up at her, his eyes were clear, and sharp. His arrogance, and contempt whilst he was delivering his speech angered her so greatly that by the time he finished speaking her colour had risen so high she could not contain herself.

“Mr Kane. Good breeding, and the requirements of society, would expect me to express my thanks at you for your words, but as you have made it quite clear that I am of low breeding, I do not feel an obligation to adhere to the rules of politeness.” He coloured at her words, and started to bite his bottom lip. Abigail continued.

“I have never wished for your love or your interest, and whilst I do not wish to cause you any pain, I cannot return your feelings, and I hope that any hurt you may feel does not last long.”

Mr Kane went pale, and his expression turned to anger, and confusion. His brow furrowed, and his eyes grew dark.

“I knew you were a woman of little regard for the feelings of others, but I would have expected more gentleness when I am to be rejected.”

“I have little regard for others? It is you who thinks nothing of calling other people merely tolerable and disagreeable whilst in their earshot. I have never encouraged your admiration, and I do not know from where you get the impression that I would be amenable to a proposal from you. Indeed, I have learned things tonight that would make such a proposition untenable to me under any circumstances.”

Mr Kane’s frown grew deeper. “I know not of what you speak. What have you learned of me this evening?”

“I have learned the truth of your character. It is not only I who is too low-bred for you, but your own brother.” She smiled triumphantly when she saw the look of surprise cross Kane’s face. His colour rose again, but he did not speak. Abigail was encouraged to continue. “You are so prejudiced against everyone whom you deem beneath you that you are willing to make your own kin, the person you grew up with and who was loved by your family, homeless and penniless. Yes, I know all about it. You may hold my status in life in contempt, but I hold you in contempt. You cannot deny what you did to him.”

“I do not deny it,” replied Kane in a low voice.

“No, because you cannot.”

“My actions were taken for my own good reason. Why should rumour and conjecture about my behaviour be a concern of yours? They are things that could be discussed, and understood or dismissed according to your will. It is your pride that is preventing you from saying yes. You do not like that I am truthful regarding my feelings about your station in life. It is a fact that cannot be ignored.      Perhaps you would have preferred me to flatter you, and pretend that it is not a concern, but I am afraid that I cannot lie, and have no desire to do so. I speak plainly, for I believe there is no other way to be.”

“You misunderstand me, Mr Kane. There is no manner in which you could have made a proposal to me that would induce me to accept it. From the moment I met you, I found you to be arrogant, rude and dismissive. I tried to find the good in you, and I perhaps deluded myself for a brief moment that I had found it, but your treatment of your brother, and of Miss de Vie, has proved my initial feelings to be correct.”

Mr Kane stared at her incredulously. “Miss de Vie? What does she have to do with this?”

“Your treatment of her points to a pattern of behaviour that I find reprehensible and intolerable. I’m afraid I would not be able to marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

“You have said enough, madam. You have made your feelings perfectly plain. There is nothing left but for me but to feel shame at my own feelings and my openness in sharing them with you. Forgive me for my intrusion. I wish you nothing but health and happiness in your future.”

Abigail slipped his coat from her shoulders and handed it to him. He did not go back inside to the party, but walked off into the night, the darkness swallowing him up. Abigail entered the orangery, curled up on her favourite chair, and cried. It was all too much for one day, and her emotions overwhelmed her. When she at last got herself under control she reflected on the last hour and was astonished. To have received a proposal of marriage from Mr Kane of all people, for him to be in love with her. If she had been told this story by somebody else she would not have believed it. She rested a while and then returned to the party, keen to find Raven and try to explain what had happened as best she could, but try as she might, the girl could not be found. She found Mr Sinclair talking to his sister, Diana.

“Mr Sinclair. Have you seen Miss Raven Kane? I wished to speak with her.”

“She has left with her brother, I’m afraid, Miss Griffin.”

“Will she be back?”

“No, they have gone back to Polisville. Kane had urgent business I believe.”

Abigail felt a pang of regret at the way she had spoken to Mr Kane. She had not expected him to be happy with her rejection, but for him to leave straight away. Perhaps she had hurt him more than she had intended. She felt concern for him, but then dismissed it. He was not worthy of her pity and she must remember that. She must look on the events of this evening as a lesson, and a lucky escape.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months have passed, and Abigail is on holiday in Derbyshire. A trip to a local estate house is proposed, and an unexpected encounter occurs by the side of a lake.
> 
> Part one of the final chapter, because I enjoyed writing it so much it.

Six months had passed since that ill-fated night at the Weatherton Christmas Eve ball. Abigail had not seen Mr Kane since. She had heard that he was spending most of his time in London and that Raven had gone back to school in Lyme Regis. She had stayed in Hertfordshire up until a week ago, and the Sinclairs were mostly in London so there had been little chance of running into him, and for that she was grateful. She was still angry with him for the way he had treated his adopted brother, and the condescending manner in which he had asked for her hand in marriage. She might have to see him soon, however, because Mr Sinclair had proposed to Caroline, and there was to be an August wedding at the church in Arkadia, followed by a ball at Weatherton. As Mr Sinclair’s best man, it was inevitable Mr Kane would be there, assuming he could overcome his objections to Mr Sinclair marrying so far beneath himself. That was something to worry about for next month. For now, Abigail was enjoying a trip to the Peak District of Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Blake.

They had spent a week touring the White Peak, visiting its limestone caverns with their sparkling Blue John stones, and stopping in the pretty stone-built towns of Buxton and Bakewell, sampling the tarts and puddings that made the area famous. Now they were in Chapel-en-le-Frith, and Abigail was sitting in her room at the Inn, writing a letter to Caroline. She was telling her of their walk up Kinder Scout to see the tallest waterfall in the Peak District, Kinder Downfall, when there was a knock on the door and her aunt entered.

“Abigail, my dear.”

“How are you, aunt?”

“I’m very well. Your uncle and I thought we might take a carriage ride today. There’s a very fine house a few miles from here whose gardens are said to be the best in the north of England.”

“Oh? Which house is that, aunt?”

“I believe you have been acquainted with the owner, briefly, a Mr Kane? The house is his estate at Polisville.”

Abigail’s pulse quickened. A visit to Mr Kane’s house? Whilst she was undoubtedly curious to see his estate, she most certainly did not want to see the man himself.

“I am acquainted with Mr Kane, but I should not wish to meet with him uninvited.”

“He is not at home, dear. I know his housekeeper from when I lived in Chapel as a young girl. She has informed me Mr Kane is in London and not expected back for the summer until the end of this week.”

Abigail supposed it would not matter to see the house if Mr Kane was not going to be there. It would be interesting to see the place that had shaped him. She imagined it to be a dark and foreboding house, suitable to his proud and brooding character.

“Very well. I shall get ready, aunt.”

Abigail finished her letter to Caroline and then got dressed for the ride in a cream dress. It was a beautiful July day and there was no need for a shawl. The carriage ride took them through the rolling Derbyshire countryside where the fields were dotted with sheep and edged with dry stone walls. At length they came to the entrance to the park and followed the long, sweeping carriageway lined with sycamores and lime trees. Deer grazed in the pasture, looking up at the carriage warily as it passed.  High up on a ridge to their left was a large, square three-storey tower the colour of sandstone. There were four smaller square towers attached at each corner each topped with green cupolas. Abigail was curious as to the purpose of the building.

“What is that tower, uncle, do you know?”

“I believe it is a hunting lodge,” replied her uncle. “The house was famed for its large parties where the men would hunt the deer and then a great feast would be held in the banqueting hall of the tower afterwards, assuming they had been successful, of course. It is little more than a folly really.”

“It must be a very grand house indeed if it has a folly so large and impressive as that.”

“I have set up a tour of the house, dear,” said her aunt. The housekeeper, Mrs Pike, will show us the property, and answer any questions we have.”

Abigail sat forward as the carriageway rounded a bend and suddenly the house came into view. She gasped, it was so magnificent. It made Weatherton look like a country cottage. There was a grand stone gateway topped with a narrow single-span arch that defied gravity. They passed through that to a large circular drive at the end of which stood what Abigail thought was the house, until their carriage stopped at a gateway set in the centre of the three-storey building. They dismounted, and were led through a long tunnel before emerging into a courtyard. The part of the house they had seen as they approached was just one wing. It was attached to three other wings of equal size which surrounded them on all four sides, tall and imposing. The sandstone walls shone in the summer sun, pale against the blue sky.

“It is more magnificent than I remember,” said her aunt, echoing Abigail’s own thoughts, her mouth agape as she craned her neck to take in all of the building.

“It is,” replied Abigail. She was stunned at the size and beauty of Mr Kane’s home. It spoke of far greater wealth than the ten thousand per annum he was alleged to have. He was clearly more aristocratic than she had ever considered.

As they gazed at the building, a door opened in one wing and a small lady with greying hair tied up on her head in a haphazard bun came out to greet them.

“Welcome to Polisville,” she said. “Aurora, my dear, it has been too long.”

“Ten years since I was last in Chapel. You haven’t changed my dear.”

“Oh, a little greyer I think, but otherwise no.”

“It must be a lot of work keeping such a house as this.” Mrs Blake gestured to their surroundings.

“It is, but we have a wonderful staff, and the master is very generous.”

Abigail looked down from where she was gazing at the huge windows that surrounded her when she heard mention of Mr Kane.

“Is he?” continued Mrs Blake. “That is wonderful. I believe he is not at home?”

“He is in London. He spends a lot of time there now. Polisville doesn’t seem to hold the same attraction for him it once did, and with Miss Raven away, I think it is too quiet for him.”

“My niece, Abigail, has met him, you know.”

Mrs Pike nodded at Abigail. “Have you dear? And how did you find him?”

“He is a most interesting man,” replied Abigail, which was the best she could do given her last encounter with Mr Kane, and his housekeeper’s obvious respect for him.

“He is. The best master anyone could wish for. Now, shall I show you around the house?”

Abigail followed her aunt and uncle and Mrs Pike into the house. She pondered the housekeeper’s words about Mr Kane. Generous, wonderful to work for. How could he be so loved by the people he knew well, and so disliked by everyone else? Her father had said that a gentleman is known by how he treats everyone, not just his peers, and clearly Mr Kane treated his housekeeper and his staff well enough for them to admire and respect him. What a conundrum the man was.

They entered through the scullery and passed through the main kitchen where staff were busy preparing a mountain of food.

“There is to be a feast when the master returns,” said Mrs Pike. “Miss Raven will be coming for the weekend as well.”

From the kitchen they emerged into the entrance hall, a great room with a high vaulted ceiling held up by marble columns in the Doric style. It should have been cold and imposing but the walls were hung with tapestries and the marble floor covered with Persian carpets. Soft rays of light shone in and illuminated the sofas and walnut furniture scattered throughout the room. It was a room that was designed to welcome its guests, and make them feel at home. Abigail’s surprise could not have been greater if Mr Kane’s home had been a mud hut.

The entrance hall led to the great hall, which had rich red walls and was lined with portraits. Mrs Pike pointed out the most distinguished family members to the small party, but Abigail’s eyes were drawn to the portrait over the huge marble fireplace in the centre of the room. It was of Mr Kane, painted recently because it was an exact likeness of how he had looked when she last saw him. He was in what she regarded as a typical Mr Kane pose. Back straight, head raised, an imperious look on his face as he looked down the slight arc of his fine-boned nose. His eyes were bright, though, and there was a slight crease at the edges of them as though the artist had captured him just as he was about to smile. He was dressed in a smoking jacket the colour of a ripe plumb and his cravat was the same silvery grey one he had worn at the Christmas Eve ball.  The picture had been composed so that his eyes followed her as she moved to regard him from a different angle, and the intensity of his gaze made heat flow through her veins, as though it were the man himself looking at her, not merely his likeness in oil on canvas.

Abigail shook her head. She was being fanciful. There was no doubt Mr Kane was a handsome man, likely to stir up feelings even in a girl as practical and self-possessed as Abigail liked to think she was. The thought that such a man should have proposed to her had flattered Abigail at the time and since, once she had had time reflect, but then the memory of his manner of asking always returned, and with it her sensibility.

“You are admiring the portrait of the master, Miss Griffin? It is a good likeness, don’t you agree?”

Abigail was shaken out of her reverie by Mrs Pike’s words. She was reluctant to look at the woman because she felt sure her cheeks were red. Her face, and indeed all her limbs, felt very warm indeed. She nodded and kept her gaze on the portrait.

“It is. The artist has captured him most agreeably.” She caught the raised eyebrow look that passed between her aunt and uncle, and turned away before she blushed further. It was being in his house that was making her feel this way; she felt surrounded by him, enveloped, like she had when he had put his jacket around her and she had smelt his scent. “Is the decoration the work of Mr Kane’s ancestors?” she asked, for want of something to say.

“Some of it, but Mr Kane chose most of the furnishings himself, had them sent from Paris, Milan and London. He has exquisite taste. Only the best is good enough for him.”

That was true, thought Abigail, although he had been willing to settle for her who was decidedly second best, if not third or fourth. She tried to imagine him in these surroundings but she could not. She could imagine herself here, though. It was a comfortable house, made for a family despite is grandness, for children to run through its corridors, their laugher echoing around the rooms as they went. It could have been hers, and if she had been a different sort of girl it would have been. But she could not bring herself to marry a man who thought himself superior to her in every way, no matter what came with him.

Mrs Pike showed them through the rest of the house, including the dining room which held a table long enough to fit two dozen guests, and the great stairway with its sweeping curves and wide handrail of polished yew.

“I cannot show you upstairs,” said Mrs Pike apologetically. “It is a restricted part of the house. I shouldn’t really be showing you at all, Mr Kane is a private man, but you are almost family, dear Aurora.”

“We appreciate your kindness, Mrs Pike, and you can rely on our complete discretion. Mr Kane will never know we were here.”

The final room they entered was the library, and it was immediately Abigail’s favourite room. It had a much lower ceiling than the other rooms, made from wood, which gave it an intimate feeling. The bookcases were wooden with the lower panels inlaid with red velvet. The shelves were stuffed with books, all ordered according to topic and size. Red leather chairs were arranged for conversing and a golden chandelier hung above them. There was a faint smell of tobacco smoke. Abigail could picture Mr Kane and his friends sitting here after dinner, discussing the topic of the day, smoking cigars and drinking brandy. In the corner of the room was a writing desk made from walnut inlaid with mother-of-pearl around the edges. A large comfortable red leather chair was pushed back away from it, as though the owner had just got up. It made her look around, for she half expected Mr Kane to walk in and resume his place. On the desk was a slim book, and on the book sat a pair of spectacles. Abigail nudged the corner of the book so she could see its title. It was _Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard_ by Thomas Gray. Mr Kane must have been reading this when last he was at home. His place was marked with a length of cord. Abigail looked around to see what the others were doing. Mrs Pike was pointing out a shelf of old manuscripts. They were not looking at Abigail. She moved the spectacles and flipped the book open to the marked page.

_Full many a gem of purest ray serene,_

_The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:_

_Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,_

_And waste its sweetness on the desert air._

The passage was underlined in pencil. Abigail traced the marks with her finger. These words had spoken to him for some reason, unless it was Raven’s book, but no, the spectacles that had been sitting on it were those of a man. Abigail closed the book and replaced the spectacles. She felt as though she had intruded on him in some way, been given a glimpse of his nature that he would not have wished her to see. Suddenly the air in the room seemed close. She could not breathe properly.

Mrs Blake turned at that moment and saw her, a look of concern spreading over her face.

“Are you unwell, Abigail?”

“I am a little warm, aunt. I think perhaps some air would be appropriate.”

“Of course,” replied Mrs Pike. “If you go out of the door to your left you will be in the gardens. They are most lovely at this time of year.”

“Thank you. I will take a short walk if you do not mind.”

“We will find you, my dear, and join you in a few moments.”

“Very well.” Abigail nodded and left the room as quickly as she could without seeming unduly hasty.

The air was warm, but sweet, and she took deep breaths as she composed herself. She was at the south end of the house in relation to where she had entered the building, but when she turned to look, it was the most beautiful façade of all the wings, done in the baroque style with a huge portico supported by giant Ionic columns topped by a pediment upon which stood statues of Neptune, Venus and Pan. Abigail was standing on a vast expanse of green lawn which led to a large pond. Its waters were blue and inviting. She wandered down to the edge and followed it towards a clump of oak trees. She thought she might find shade there from the heat of the sun, and rest for a short while.

As she approached the trees, she saw a horse tethered to one of them, and then her eyes were drawn to a figure emerging from the lake, water dripping from his body as he walked up the grass. She stopped, but the figure kept approaching. He was drying his hair with a cloth and had not seen that he had company. At last he looked up, and Abigail gasped. It was Mr Kane! He stopped just a few feet from her as he saw her, and was startled, a blush coming to his face, which she fancied must match her own. He stared at her, seemingly unmindful that he was wearing only his riding breeches and a white shirt that was opened to the waist, and clinging to him. Abigail could see every contour of his upper body through the damp cloth, each taut muscle flexing as he breathed heavily. His skin was the same olive brown as his face, unblemished, with just a thin line of hairs in the centre of his chest. Heat flushed through her as she took him in, and she blushed further.

“Miss Griffin!” he at last said as he regained his composure. A puzzled look settled on his face.

“Mr Kane! I did not think you were at home.”

“I have not long returned. My journey was long and dusty. The lake was inviting.” He finally looked down at himself as though noticing for the first time his state of undress. He did not hurry to make himself presentable, however. He started walking towards his horse, and Abigail was unsure what to do until he spoke again.

“It is a great surprise to see you here. What are you doing at Polisville?”

Abigail felt shame, then, at the way she was intruding on him. Visiting his home without his knowledge, leafing through his private things, seeing him in such an unguarded moment. She had no right to be here, no matter what her thoughts about him were. How must it look to a man as proud and vain as he?

“I am holidaying in the area with my aunt and uncle. My aunt used to live close to here, in Chapel-en-le-Frith. She wanted to see a place she remembered from childhood.”

That was not a lie, although her aunt had never explicitly said she had a great desire to see Polisville, merely that it would be a nice excursion. Abigail felt the need to justify her presence here, even though it had not been her idea to come.

“And your aunt is?” Kane hung his cloth in a branch of the oak tree and at last began to fasten up his shirt, his fingers easing each button through its hole with aching slowness.

Abigail swallowed, because her throat had suddenly become dry. “My aunt is Mrs Aurora Blake, married to Captain Bellamy Blake, of London, but before that she was a Lincoln, from Chapel.”

“Oh, the Lincolns. A fine family. They have been in this area as long as mine I think. I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting a Captain Blake, unless… He isn’t the Captain Blake who served so admirably at the Battle of Trafalgar, is he?”

“That is him. He was wounded saving his men from Napoleon.”

“A splendid man, by all accounts.”

“He is. Thank you.” Kane nodded, and Abigail frowned. He did not seem perturbed by the knowledge of who her family were, for although he had said they were a fine family, there was no hiding that they were of much lower class than Mr Kane. He seemed so different from when she had last met him. He showed no signs of being angry or upset with her for the way they had parted. Gone was the stiffness with which he had held himself every time they had met. He was relaxed, leaning against his horse as he tried to pull his boots back on.

“Damned things,” he muttered, as his foot got stuck halfway in the boot and would move no further.

“You are perhaps too damp for the boots to fit smoothly,” ventured Abigail.

“Perhaps you are right. It was a folly to dive into the lake fully clothed, but I could not wait long enough to disrobe, the temptation was too great.”

“It is as well that you did, for at least your modesty has been partially preserved.”

“I did not expect to be observed.”

“No, but you have been.”

“Yes. I have.” He looked at her for a long moment and Abigail felt the heat rise to her cheeks again.

“It is so hot,” she said, as a means of explaining her complexion.

“We do not often get such warm days here in Derbyshire. You have chosen the right time to visit.”

“Indeed,” replied Abigail. “I hope you do not mind our intrusion.”

“It is a surprise, but not an unpleasant one.”

He bent to give his boots one last tug, and Abigail was grateful because he could not see the way her mouth fell open involuntarily at his words. Why was he being so civil to her, and not just civil but gentle, enquiring, speaking to her as though they were friends and had not parted in such a terrible way?

“Abigail, there you are. Oh!” Her aunt and uncle appeared, and stopped as suddenly as Abigail had when they saw she was not alone.

Kane looked up, and though his hair was tousled and damp, and he was not at all his usual neat and tidy self, he was unmistakably the man from his portrait, and Abigail knew they could not fail to recognise him. Kane stepped forward, and offered his hand to her uncle, welcoming him to his home. They shook hands and the two men moved off, with Kane leading his horse, leaving Abigail and Mrs Blake no choice but to follow on behind them. Mrs Blake looked at Abigail quizzically but did not speak, for they were too close to the men, and likely to be overheard. Indeed, Abigail could hear every word of their conversation. Mr Kane was complimenting the Captain on his military service, and the two were discussing the tactics of war as though they had known each other all their lives. Abigail flushed with pride at the way in which her uncle spoke with Mr Kane, so eloquently and intelligently. It was pleasing to have family members to present to him who did not make her blush at their every utterance.

After a few minutes of walking Mrs Blake pronounced herself fatigued in the heat, and she and Mr Kane swapped places, so that she could walk at a slower pace alongside her husband. Kane and Abigail walked together in silence, until Abigail spoke.

“Your housekeeper said your sister is to join you for the weekend.”

Kane nodded. “She is coming up from school for a few days.” He paused. “I’m sure she would very much like to meet you again, if you are amenable.”

Abigail bowed her head. “I should like that.”

They walked on in silence. Abigail was not comfortable, but she was flattered by his manner, and his attentions not only to her but to her aunt and uncle. It was a great compliment that he should want her to meet with his sister again, even after everything that had happened. They were heading for the carriage, and when they reached it, the Blakes were some distance behind. Abigail and Kane stood together in awkward silence. Abigail wanted to talk, but any subject seemed fraught with difficulty. She could not talk of the magnificence of Polisville without remembering that she had turned down the chance to be its mistress. At last she remembered that she was on holiday, and so she told Mr Kane of all the places she had visited in the Peak District. He listened politely, venturing an observation or an anecdote from his own visits to the towns, and the time passed quickly until the Blakes arrived at the carriage. Mr Kane took Abigail’s hand as he helped her into her seat, and her skin burned with the memory of his touch for the entire journey back to the inn.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter, in which there is an exchange of letters, a meeting, and a proposal.
> 
> I have departed pretty much completely from the book in this chapter. I enjoyed making it up myself too much :D

Back at the inn, Abigail went straight to her room. She wanted to compose a letter to Caroline, but as she sat down at the small desk near the window, she found that she didn’t know where to start. Her mind was in turmoil at the events of the day. Mr Kane’s demeanour was so different to previously, relaxed and courteous. Kind to her aunt and uncle, solicitous of their wellbeing, interested in their conversation. It was as though the Mr Kane she had known six months ago had been replaced by another man. What had happened to him in the intervening time? Her own feelings about him made her uncomfortable, and she went to bed that evening without putting pen to paper, her thoughts too rambling to be sorted and committed to paper in any form that Callie would be able to understand.

The following morning there was a note waiting for her when she descended to breakfast. Mr and Mrs Blake watched her expectantly as she opened it. Abigail kept her composure outwardly, but her pulse was racing as she broke the seal of the Kane family, and unfolded the letter. It was much longer than she had expected, and as soon as she read the opening line she knew she could not read the letter in front of her aunt and uncle.

“Will you excuse me for a moment? I should like some fresh air before breakfast.”

Abigail ignored their questioning looks and went out into the garden of the inn. She sat on a bench beneath a cherry tree to read the letter. It was composed in a neat hand, each black-inked letter sloping carefully forward, each line straighter than a crow flies.

_Miss Griffin_

_Do not be alarmed by my writing to you so suddenly after our meeting, but I could not in all conscience see you again without giving you an account of my behaviour when last we met, and the offences with which you charged me. I had vowed to put our exchange at the ball out of my mind, but seeing you again has discomfited me, and I see now that I cannot do that without first addressing that night._

_You accused me of two deeds, that I ruined my brother by disinheriting him, and that I behaved abominably towards Miss de Vie. I shall address the latter first, because it can be explained more readily. I did not at first understand your accusation, for I have never behaved in any way except with the utmost decorum with the young lady. After we parted, and I had had some time to consider your words, I made some enquiries. I believe you heard the tale from Reverend Collins, who was told it by Lady de Vie, and I cannot blame you for believing such a source, for who should know a daughter better than her mother?_

_It is true that it was the desire both of my parents and of Lady de Vie that we should one day marry. This arrangement was made when I was a young boy and Miss de Vie was a child not much older than my own dear sister. I was fond of her as I was of my own sister, but it became clear to me that I would never be able to marry her. You have pointed out the flaws in my character so eloquently on a number of occasions that I am sure I do not have to explain to you why we were not suited. She is accomplished in all the arts in which a young lady should be accomplished but she does not have the sharpness of wit and quickness of mind that I have been unconsciously seeking, and which I found the epitome of in you. I never courted her love or paid her much attention at all, but she did make an attempt to engage with me, and I am afraid I told her in no uncertain terms that we were not suited, and I thought no more about it. I cannot speak a falsehood. I do not see what purpose it serves; the truth is far better than a lie. When I myself was on the receiving end of such a rejection, I began to realise the depth of the pain I had inflicted upon her. My enquiries revealed that she felt humiliated, and was unable to tell her mother the truth upon questioning, and so I unwittingly became the villain of the piece. It was never my intention to behave badly towards her, and until you informed me, I did not know that I had. I am guilty of being flawed, as you know, but that is all._

_The matter of my brother, Mr Finn Collins, is a more delicate one, the truth of which is known by only a trusted few. It involves my sister, and I know how fond you are of her, and she is of you. It is my greatest wish that she should find someone who can be a sister to her, a guide in the ways of life that I cannot be. I hesitate to tell you the story, not because I do not trust you, but because I do not wish to tarnish your view of my sister. She has made a mistake, as we all do from time to time in life, and we are overcoming it._

_My family took in Mr Collins as a young child, and brought him up as a brother to myself and Raven, and we were happy to have him. I treated him as one of the family, even more so after our parents died. I am sorry to say that he misled us all, and repaid my attentions with villainy of the worst kind. Unbeknownst to me, he had been courting my sister when she was just fourteen. I was away on business in London a lot, I could not help it, and I thought I was leaving Raven in a reliable charge, but I was mistaken. I’m afraid to say that he seduced her into running away with him. I tracked them down to a low part of London, and believe I was fortunate to save her from further ruin. It was a most difficult time, for she was infatuated with him, as young girls often are, and hated me for separating them. I could not contain her behaviour at Polisville, and so I sent her away to school, and we have been repairing our relationship ever since. I did not want any more to do with Mr Collins, and I did not want him to have any reasons to contact our family again, and so I disinherited him._

_He told his own story, of course, which was not favourable to me, knowing that I could not refute it without informing the world of my sister’s disgrace. That I would never do. I would rather be the villain of every tale if it meant my sister was free to live her life unblemished by scandal. Indeed, the opinions of other people have never bothered me, until that night where your disgust with me was so apparent, and I was helpless before it. To be held contemptuous in your eyes pained me more than I had ever thought was possible. I knew there was nothing further to be done, because you are honest and moral, and I could quite understand your opinion, for if I did not know better myself, I am sure I would share it._

_As for my behaviour towards you and your family. I cannot deny even now that your mother and your three sisters, and even occasionally your father, behave in a manner that I find crude and objectionable. You will no doubt find this description of your relations unwelcome, and I cannot help that, I can only say that it is to the credit of you and your older sister that you conduct yourselves in a manner that is honourable and befitting of your excellent characters._

_I do not claim to try to improve your feelings about me and my character and behaviour. I have a cousin to whom you can enquire about the Mr Collins situation if you should desire to do so. He will be able to back up my assertions as to what occurred, and why I have done what I have. As for the rest, I expect nothing than your time in reading this letter, and your consideration of its contents. I should like for my sister to be able to call on you. I do not expect for you to desire my own attendance._

_I remain your faithful servant,_

_Marcus Kane_

By the time Abigail had finished reading the letter, her hands were shaking so much she very nearly dropped the paper to the floor. She folded it, and clasped it to her bosom, next to her heart. Its contents had shocked her beyond reason. Her eyes welled with tears, and she wiped them away before they could drop onto the precious paper. The letter revealed a man capable of deep love and self-sacrifice, a man who would rather allow her to think the worst of him than betray his beloved sister, thereby surrendering his own chance of happiness. Who knew such a man lay beneath that cold, arrogant exterior?

Abigail unfolded the letter again and scanned it, certain sentences leaping out at her, magnified through her tears. “S _he does not have the sharpness of wit and quickness of mind that I have been unconsciously seeking, and which I found the epitome of in you.” “To be held contemptuous in your eyes pained me more than I had ever thought was possible.”_ Her heart swelled, and a lump came to her throat as she read the words again. She could hear him speaking them, the low rumble of his voice, quiet, yet firm. Oh, to be loved so dearly, and so honestly, and to have turned such love away, as she had done! She had been too quick to believe Mr Collins, had accused Mr Kane in such a manner that he was left believing there was no point in trying to explain to her, no hope that his love would ever be returned. He had wounded her pride when he belittled her family and status, but how many times had she bemoaned the same to Caroline, and her friends? How often had she wanted to curl up with embarrassment at the shrill pronouncements of her mother, or her sisters’ wilful behaviour? She was as guilty as he in this matter.

She did not need to consult with his cousin over the truth of his admissions, for she believed him wholeheartedly. Every word was written honestly and without guile, as straightforward and direct as the man himself. She realised in this moment what the deepest part of her heart had known all along, that she was in love with him as well. His wit and intelligence had attracted her from the beginning, though she had not wished to admit it to herself. She knew at the first Weatherton ball that she had found her equal in matters of the mind, which was why his denigration of her status had injured her feelings so. It had been a disappointment to find that he was not her equal in matters of morality, or of the heart. How wrong she had been.

She must respond to him at once, for he would have written this letter yesterday, perhaps as soon as she had left him, and she could only imagine the state of his mind in the intervening hours, as he pondered his letter’s reception. He did not expect her to want to see him, but she desired that event most of all. Abigail rose from the bench and entered the inn via a rear door so that her aunt and uncle would not see her. She went to her room and composed a letter to Mr Kane. It took her three attempts to even get the opening right, and by the time she had finished, her little writing desk was littered with screwed up balls of paper.

_Mr Kane_

_Thank you for your letter which I received this morning. Its contents were a great surprise as you may expect, as I was ignorant of all the circumstances you describe above. My feelings are in such turmoil I fear that a letter cannot contain them, and I should not be able to express myself as eloquently as you. I will say I am regretful of the manner in which I made my accusations to you, which left you no room for reply. You once said that neither of us is capable of adjusting our characters to suit others and I believe you are right, and that I must take a share of the blame for what has happened between us._

_I must thank you for your candour in telling me the truth, and assure you that the knowledge of your sister’s plight is safe with me, and no word of it shall ever be spoken by me without your consent. Knowing this cannot, and will not, change the fond feelings I have for Miss Kane._

_I shall keep this letter short so that you will receive it in due haste, but let me put your mind at rest by saying that I am most desirous to see both you and your sister again. I hope that you will call on me at your earliest convenience._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Abigail Griffin_

Abigail read the letter over. It was very formal, more formal than she had intended, but if she began to express the fullness of what was in her heart, she feared it would overflow more sheets of paper than she had, and Mr Kane would never get to read it in time. She folded the paper and stamped her own family’s crest on the wax seal. She went down to the inn’s reception and asked the innkeeper if he had a boy who could take the post immediately. She was gratified to hear that she had caught him without a moment to spare, and she put her letter into the innkeeper’s care, with more than a little trepidation as to what could occur as a result. As she turned to enter the dining room, her aunt and uncle were heading towards her.

“Abigail, my dear! What happened? Are you unwell?” Her aunt’s frown of concern made Abigail feel guilty, for she had fled the breakfast table without an explanation and had been gone for quite some time.

“Yes, Abigail, we were worried.” Captain Blake put a hand out towards Abigail tentatively, and she grasped his hand to reassure him.

“I am very well. I’m sorry I left so abruptly.”

“Did you receive bad news?”

“No. It was nothing like that.” Abigail pondered how much to tell them. It wasn’t that she wished to hide anything from her aunt and uncle, it was more that what she was feeling was so new, and unfathomable. She could not properly express it, and a part of her wanted to keep Mr Kane’s words to herself, to hold them tight and savour them while they were still new and fresh. Sharing them would lessen that somehow. “It was a letter from Mr Kane, of Polisville. He wishes to call on us with his sister, Miss Raven Kane.”

A look of surprise passed between Mr and Mrs Blake that was swiftly followed by a knowing nod.

“I see, dear,” said Mrs Blake. “When are we to expect the gentleman?”

“And his sister,” replied Abigail. “He did not say. Tomorrow perhaps.” Abigail felt a shiver of anticipation run through her body as she thought about seeing him again.

“Then we had better make sure we are at the inn to receive them both.”

“Thank you, aunt.”

“Your uncle and I are going for a walk into the town, if you should wish to accompany us. We shall be back for lunch.”

“Thank you, but I think I will stay here. The gardens are so lovely, I should like to explore them better.” In truth, Abigail wanted to do nothing more than to sit under the cherry tree and read Mr Kane’s letter over again until its every word was seared into her heart.

\---

That afternoon, Abigail was sitting with her aunt and uncle in the garden when there was the clatter of hooves and the creak of carriage wheels in the lane beside the garden. Abigail looked up but the beech hedge surrounding the garden blocked her view of the new arrival.

A few moments later the innkeeper’s boy entered the garden from the dining room. He bowed before the Blakes and Abigail.

“Mr Kane, Miss Kane, to see you miss.”

Abigail sat up straighter, startled at the boy’s words.

“Oh, my,” said her aunt. “So soon! We are not dressed for visitors.”

Abigail looked down at her dress. It was a simple cream dress with a light blue brocade at the edges, nothing special.

“Mr Kane must take us as he finds us, aunt,” she said with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. What had brought him here so soon? It could barely have been more than a couple of hours since he received her letter.

She stood up as Mr Kane entered, followed by Raven. Mr Kane was dressed more formally than when she has last seen him, in a black morning suit and top hat. He looked as though he were on a business trip to London rather than visiting this garden in a small Derbyshire village. He removed the hat and bowed.

“Miss Griffin, Captain and Mrs Blake.”

Captain Blake stepped forward, and shook Kane’s hand. “It is an honour to meet you again, sir.”

“The honour is all mine,” replied Kane.

At that moment Raven pushed forward, a big smile on her face. She embraced Abigail, squeezing her tightly.

“My dear Abigail. I did not think I would see you again.”

Abigail looked at Kane, but his face was unreadable as usual, giving no hint of his reaction to her letter.

“Nor I you. Oh, it is lovely to see you too.”

“Why don’t we order some tea,” said Captain Blake, and he nodded to the innkeeper’s boy.

Raven sat on the bench and pulled Abigail down next to her. She began chatting excitedly about her school, and her friends. Abigail smiled and nodded, but she could not stop her eyes drifting across to Kane, who was standing in his usual stiff posture, listening as Captain Blake spoke. After a few moments of attention to what her uncle was saying, Kane’s eyes turned towards Abigail, and they stared at each other. Abigail blushed, and Kane’s eyes creased a little into what most people would think of as a grimace, but which Abigail now knew was the start of a smile. It was that same look he wore in the portrait that hung in the grand hall of his home. Kane shifted his weight from one leg to another, and returned his attention to Captain Blake. Abigail returned to her conversation with Raven, and the afternoon continued thus until tea arrived. There was little opportunity to talk to Kane during tea other than to make small talk about the weather, and his business in London, and the preparations for the dinner the following evening to mark his return to Polisville.

The boy came and cleared the tea things away, and Raven turned to Abigail.

“I wonder if we should go for a walk after that tea? There is a beautiful gorge not far from here. Have you seen it yet?”

“I have not,” replied Abigail, “but that sounds like a wonderful idea. Would you like to come, aunt?”

“I do not think I have the energy for another walk, Abby. Do you dear?” Mrs Blake looked at her husband.

Captain Blake shook his head. “I am quite fatigued.”

Abigail looked across to where Mr Kane was standing, not looking at any of the party, seemingly engrossed in the blossom on the cherry tree. “What about you, Mr Kane? I remember you saying there was nothing better to sharpen the mind and the wit than a good walk.”

Kane turned his gaze on Abigail, and warmth spread to her limbs as it was wont to do since yesterday whenever he looked at her. “I did say that, yes. Then I suppose it would be rude of me to decline.”

“And how unlike you to be rude! Then it is settled.” Abigail smiled at Kane to show him she was in jest, and was gratified to see a smile tug at the edges of his mouth in return.

“I am not certain your wit needs much sharpening, Miss Griffin.”

“One must constantly strive to better oneself, Mr Kane.”

“Quite. Shall we proceed?”

Raven took Abigail’s hand and led her out into the lane and towards the river. Kane followed behind them. It was such a beautiful day Abigail felt light hearted as they made their way along the path. Raven was chattering endlessly but all Abigail could think of was Kane’s letter. She was keenly aware of the man himself just a few steps behind her. She could hear his breaths, the confident sound of his footsteps as he strode along the gravel. He was so close she fancied that if she stopped suddenly he would walk straight into her. They came to a set of steps hewn from the rock that led down steeply into the gorge. Raven dropped Abigail’s hand as there was no room to walk side by side. The air grew colder as they descended. Water dripped down the huge blocks of stone that formed the side of the gorge, and ferns clung to the crevices. It was quite gloomy after the brightness of the day above, but it was not long before they reached the bottom and the path widened, and the sun shone down again.

“I’m sure there is an interesting stone carving somewhere about here,” said Raven.

“Oh, I think I may have read about it,” replied Abigail. “Something from Roman times.”

“Yes! Shall we look for it?”

Raven held out her hand again and Abigail went to take it, but Kane stepped in between them.

“Why don’t you search for it first, Raven. It is better than dragging Miss Griffin here and there after you.”

His tone brooked no discussion, and Raven nodded, smiling at Abigail before she ran off down the path to look for the stone. Abigail was left alone with Mr Kane.

“Shall we walk to the bridge?” he asked.

Abigail agreed, and followed him to a small wooden bridge that was strung across the gorge. It swayed a little as they stepped on it but the view from the centre of the bridge was worth the sick feeling Abigail got as she walked along it. A cascade of water tumbled down the rocks in front of them, splashing into a dark pool beneath the bridge and then continuing on down the hill, rumbling as it made its perilous journey.

Kane turned to look at her, and Abigail’s stomach did another flip, not because of the rickety bridge this time, but because she knew he was going to speak about the letters, and she wasn’t sure what he had made of hers at all.

“I received your letter,” he said. “It was most gratifying to hear you speak so warmly of my sister, even after what I told you.”

“It is the nature of the young to commit folly. She will learn from it.”

“You are most kind.” He put his hands on the rail, and looked across to the waterfall. “I fear it is not only the young who make mistakes.”

Abigail wanted so much to put her hand on his, to reassure him that his mistakes were forgiven, but she did not dare to touch him.

“We have all acted inappropriately.”

“Inappropriately?” He looked alarmed, and Abigail had to clarify her words quickly.

“Last year, in Weatherton. Neither of us behaved well, I suspect.”

“I do not think you have anything with which to reproach yourself. You acted in good faith, and according to your principles, which are honest and true.”

“You are being too kind. I acted hastily. I was hot-headed, and your pride and condescension infuriated me. I wanted to believe those things of you, and so I did, without proper investigation.”

“I gave you many reasons to be so prejudiced, did I not?” Kane smiled ruefully.

“Perhaps. Your behaviour was quite extraordinary. I had never met someone so rude and intolerant in my life!”

“Not even your mother?” Kane smirked, and Abigail laughed.

“My mother is honest, and caring, and loyal. One just has to look a little deeper with her to find those things. Quite, quite deep.” Abigail smiled.

“I did a lot of thinking in the intervening months. I examined myself and my behaviour considerably, and whilst I cannot bring myself to speak falsely about a person for whom I do not care, for I still believe the truth is the best witness to our natures, I have taught myself to hold my tongue. You have brought that about.”

Abigail swelled with pride that she should be responsible for such a change in him, a man of Mr Kane’s stature, and experience.

“I am humbled by your words, Sir.”

“Perhaps you could find it within yourself to afford me a closer examination, and a similar level of tolerance to that which you give your mother?”

Abigail studied him. He looked so different to when she first met him, nervous, hopeful and fearful at the same time. How was it that she was the cause of such emotions? It made her heart swell with affection. Her love for him could no longer be contained, and when she looked into his eyes, she was sure she saw that the feelings he had expressed that fateful Christmas Eve had not changed. He was still in love with her.

She put her hand on his where it gripped the rail. It was daring, and she half expected him to take his hand away, but he did not. He stared at their joined hands as though he had not been touched affectionately by another human before in his life, like it was a new thing, a wondrous discovery.

“I do not need to look more closely,” Abigail said. “I have seen your heart. I saw it back in Weatherton, when I first met Raven, but I did not believe my own eyes. Then yesterday, when we met by the lake, I saw it again, even though I did not understand from whence it came.”

“It came from my affection for you.” Kane stepped closer to her. His hand reached out, and she thought he was going to place it on top of hers, but instead he stroked the side of her face with his fingers. His touch was soft and feathery, and it made Abigail warm all over. He was so gentle with her it was as though he was afraid she would break under his caress. His eyes roamed her face, trying to discern her reaction. “Dare I to hope?”

“You do not need to hope, for I am yours, if you still want me.”

“I want nothing more.”

He leaned towards her, and Abigail’s heart rate increased so much she thought it might fail from the exertion. His fingers brushed the edges of her lips, and he smiled; his eyes followed his fingers, focusing on her mouth. Abigail tried to take a breath, but one would not come. His face was a mere inch from hers, when a voice shouted, and made them jump apart.

“I’ve found it!” Raven bounded onto the bridge, causing it to rock alarmingly.

Both Abigail and Kane flushed, and Raven stopped dead on her approach.

“Oh! I have disturbed you.”

“Not at all. We were admiring the view,” replied Kane.

“I saw what you were admiring! Have you asked her yet?”

Abigail started. What did he want to ask her?

“Not yet. I was about to.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Kane glared at Raven, but she was unperturbed.     

Abigail on the other hand, was most definitely perturbed. The events of the day, and particularly of the last few minutes, had left her mind in turmoil. She could barely speak.

“What are you to ask me?”

Kane cleared his throat. “I wondered if you would do me the honour of attending my dinner tomorrow night, as my guest? It is just family and close friends.”

She was disappointed, at first, and then she reprimanded herself. He was not going to ask her to marry him again, not in front of Raven, and perhaps not at all. She should not make such assumptions, for they only led to trouble, as the events of Christmas last could attest.

“I should be delighted to attend. I am afraid I did not bring any ballgowns with me. I was not expecting such an invitation to come my way.”

“You will not need a ballgown, it is a relaxed evening with those dearest to me. Perhaps you have that dress you wore when we met in the hawthorn lane? That was most becoming on you.”

Abigail flushed again. “You mean the one covered in most of the dirt of Hampshire?”

Kane smiled. “That is the one.”

“Very well. I am honoured to be your country mudlark. I am sure your friends will be delighted to see me thus.”

“My friends’ opinions are of no consequence to me. However, you need not fear. I am sure they will love you as I do.” He turned to Raven. “Now, dear sister, shall we go and see this stone?”

They strode off at great speed, brother and sister, so alike in more ways than Abigail had ever thought possible. She trailed behind, his last words to her playing over and over in her mind.  

\---

The following evening was so warm that the dinner ended up being held out on the vast lawn of Polisville. The long table and the chairs from the dining room were brought out, and they feasted on the game from Kane’s estate. Mr Kane had introduced Abigail as his dear friend, and there were one or two raised eyebrows amongst the other guests, but overall his friends were cordial with her. Mr Kane ignored them for the best part of the evening, talking only with Abigail, telling her about his plans for the estate and how he hoped to be able to give up his business in London to move back to Derbyshire full time. The evening was more fun than Abigail had thought it would be, for in truth she had been dreading meeting his friends, and wondering what Kane would be like in their company, whether he would slip back to the old Kane, proud and haughty. He was proud, but it was she who was the object of his pride when he was showing her off to his friends, remarking on her wit, and her cleverness. The dress code had indeed been casual, and Mr Kane had forgone his usual coat in favour of a blue waistcoat over a white shirt, and grey trousers that had a softer cut. His hair was looser, and wavy, and he altogether cut a far more relaxed figure than Abigail had seen before.

As dusk came, the servants removed everything indoors, and the guests followed for drinks in the great hall. Mr Kane stopped Abigail as she was about to enter the house.

“Let us take a walk; it is such a fine evening.”

He held out his arm and Abigail took it. Together they wandered through the gardens and down, inevitably it would seem, to the lake. The moon was shining, casting its pale shadow across the dark waters, and the stars were coming out. They stood facing each other at the edge of the lake.

“I wish to thank you for attending the dinner, Miss Griffin.” Kane said. “It can’t have been easy for you to meet so many strangers with no one you know to accompany you.”

“They made me most welcome, and I did have people I know here. I had Raven, and you.” Abigail smiled.

“Of course. You know, I cannot keep calling you Miss Griffin, not now that we are… friends.”

“No, it is rather formal for friends to address each other such.”

“Your family call you Abby?”

“They do. It is a pet name amongst my family and my friends. Caroline is Callie and I am Abby.”

“Abby.” He said the name as though he was testing its sound, the form of it on his lips, how it felt.

“You would prefer the more formal Abigail?”

“No. Abby suits you. You are not a formal girl.”

Abby laughed. “I am not.”

“You are the most remarkable girl I have ever met. I did not know what to make of you that first night at Weatherton.”

“Tolerable, and not enough to tempt you, were your exact words I believe.”

Kane lowered his eyes. “I was a fool.”

“I believe I told my family you were rude and contemptuous, so perhaps we were both too quick to judge.”

Kane took Abby’s hands and pulled her closer to him. “I was rude and contemptuous,” he said as he reached up and caressed her cheek.

Abby sighed at the warmth of his touch. “You were.”

“But you are more than tolerable. And you do tempt me. Very much.” He held her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Abigail tangled her fingers in his hair, bringing him closer, because it was heavenly to touch him in this way, to feel the warmth of his body next to hers, the passion of his kiss which was growing more urgent, lighting a fire in her belly, and to hear his soft moan as he pressed her harder to him. To be so desired was overwhelming, but she understood his needs, because she felt the same. She could not love or want him more.

When they finally broke apart, Kane stepped back, and took her hands in his again.

“I must have you forever more. I cannot live another day without you, without the light you bring to my life. Please say that you will marry me, that you will be mine.”

He kissed her hand and looked hopefully into her eyes.

“I should be honoured to marry you, and I am already yours. I always will be.”

They kissed again, and then Mr Kane took her hand and they walked slowly back to the house.

“For six months I have thought of nothing but you,” said Kane. “I tried to put you out of my mind, but you are a stubborn creature, and I could not get rid of you.”

Abigail laughed. “I am most stubborn you are correct. Perhaps you do not know what you are letting yourself in for when you marry me.”

Kane squeezed her hand. “Oh, I think I do. I will bear your stubbornness happily, for I never dared hope that this day would come, that you would consider me worthy to be your husband.”

Abigail didn’t answer him at first, because she was too surprised and emotional at his words. The man who had openly proclaimed her unworthy of him, was now humble before her, and he was sincere, and truthful, and open and loyal. What luck that she had come on holiday to Derbyshire and met him again, for if the fates had not intervened, this chance of happiness would have been lost to them both forever.

“I know that you will be a most worthy husband, and a wonderful father to our children,” she replied, and was gratified to see a deep smile bloom on Kane’s face. They walked hand in hand back to the house that would soon be their home, with the joy and happiness in their hearts that true love brings to those lucky enough to find it.

 

Epilogue

On the seventh anniversary of their wedding day, Abby was sitting on a blanket by the lakeside, watching her sons splashing around in the lake with their father. Their youngest child, eighteen-month old Isabella, or Bella as she was affectionately nicknamed by her father, was asleep next to Abby, lying flat on her back with all her limbs stretched out. She was so like Marcus with her dark hair and olive skin it was as though Abby had nothing to do with her creation. She rubbed her small arm tenderly, and the baby stirred but did not wake. Down in the lake, Marcus was swimming with Thomas and Henry, and cheating at whatever game they were playing if the indignant shouts of the boys were any indication.

“Don’t let papa get away with being naughty, boys,” she shouted to them.

“We are trying to race, mama, but he keeps pulling our legs back so we can’t get past him,” said Henry.

“Come here a moment, and I shall tell you a secret.”

Henry waded out of the water and ran to Abby. “What is it, mama?”

“Papa is very ticklish behind his knees. If one of you can get him there, then the other one will be able to win the race I am sure.”

Henry ran back to the water, and took his younger brother aside to tell him the secret. He spoke in such a loud whisper that even Abby could hear him from her position on the grass. Marcus must have heard them too, but he made it appear as though he had not, and when the boys got into position, he pretended he did not know what was about to happen. His cries were real though, Abby could tell, when Thomas managed to tickle him, and Henry swam away across the lake before standing triumphantly on the other side.

“You boys are wicked, and your mama is wicked too,” he said as they all climbed out of the lake and headed towards Abby.

“You were being naughty, papa,” said Thomas.

“Perhaps I was being a little unfair,” replied Kane as he ruffled the boy’s wet hair.

The boys ran off to chase each other around the gardens, and Kane sat down on the blanket next to Abby. He shook his head so that water droplets splashed all over her.

“Hey!”

“It is only what you deserve,” he said with a laugh.

Abby smiled, and leant back on her elbows, turning her face up to the hot August sun. “I don’t know where those boys get their energy. I am exhausted just watching them.”

Kane put his hand on her belly, and rubbed it. “You are carrying our child around with you all the time. It is no wonder you are tired.”

“This one is the liveliest yet. It is always kicking. There it is now; can you feel it?”

“Yes! She is fearsome.” He pressed gently where the baby was kicking to encourage her to do it again.

“She?”

“It is another girl, surely, with such vigour. Do you remember Bella?”

“How could I forget. I thought if only I could see inside me I should be black and blue all over!”

“It is your fault we have such strong children.”

“My fault?”

“Indeed. They are stubborn and fierce like their mama.”

“And I suppose they are nothing at all like their papa?”

“The boys have my charm, that is true.”

Abby hit him playfully on his arm. “Look at Bella. She is the image of you.”

Kane looked over at his daughter. “She is, calm and relaxed just like her papa.”

Abby laughed.

“We have one child asleep, and the other two are the other side of the grounds by now.” He stroked her belly again. “And this one doesn’t know what is happening.”

“What is happening?” replied Abby. “What are you planning?”

“Just some time with my wife.” He leaned in, and kissed her. He was bare-chested and sun-warm as he pulled her to him. Abby couldn’t put her arms around him because her belly was in the way, but she returned the kiss and they lay like that in the sunshine, kissing, and whispering memories to each other of their wedding day, while their children played and slept.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this. I'm sorry the final chapter was delayed, but real life writing deadlines got in the way. I hope you have enjoyed it. It was a blast writing it. Thanks to Jane Austen for the inspiration. Thanks to all of you for reading, and for your comments and encouragement <3


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